


Sailing (by Kim G. and Linda)

by mickeym



Series: Randy and Michael [8]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Graphic Sex, M/M, randy and michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-09-14
Updated: 2000-09-14
Packaged: 2017-10-09 10:46:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 40,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/86439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickeym/pseuds/mickeym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Randy takes Michael sailing for the weekend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sailing (by Kim G. and Linda)

**Author's Note:**

> Some talk of D/s issues, but just talking.

Sailing

By [Kim G. and Linda](mailto:kimgasper@infinitepassions.com,%20pierson38@aol.com)

© September 2000

 

Randy: I had originally intended to drop Michael off after our date, and go home and finish getting things ready to take down to the boat Friday morning. The best laid plans· Actually, it was me who was best-laid Thursday night. Michael came home with me, and we ended up basically attacking each other. That little bit under the boardwalk, as nice as it'd been, had only whetted my appetite. And his, it appeared. Man. To think I spent almost four weeks trying to convince myself I didn't want him.  

I had planned to get up after we had sex, and finish getting things ready--I still had to pack my bag, and gather non-perishables together in the kitchen. But another plan laid that didn't happen· It was so nice to lay there next to him, and just·I don't know. Kind of absorb his heat; absorb just *having* him there.

I woke up about an hour before I had the alarm set; I had to go to the bathroom, and I was thirsty. I was surprised that I'd fallen asleep as quickly as I had, and more surprised that I woke up when I did. I got out of bed and pulled on my sweatshorts, then headed for the kitchen, and coffee.

It didn't take long to put the groceries into some order; for the most part, I'd left the non-perishables in the bags they'd come from the store in. All that I really needed to do was add the frozen/refrigerated stuff to the cooler, and double-check that I wasn't missing anything we'd want. I grinned, thinking about my shopping trip yesterday. I'd even bought some Earl Grey tea, and a small teapot. Nothing like what Michael had at his place--I could tell, even the once I saw it, that it was special to him. But hopefully he'd appreciate the gesture.

I had a lot of conflicting emotions running through me every time I thought about the man still sleeping in my bed. I was definitely intrigued, oh, yes. And sex with him was spectacular; I couldn't recall the last time I'd had as much fun with someone, in bed. Danger was a definite thing, too, and I could still hear Quent's voice saying, "You *slept* with him? Unprotected?" Danger from other places, too. HIV was only one area--the other was my heart· me. What would happen to me if I let my guard down, and let him in? Or was it too late for that? I already knew I wanted to know him better, learn more about him. Long-term·was scary. Hell, short-term, beyond a day or so was scary too--but didn't carry the weight that the other did.

I sighed and poured a cup of coffee, then two tumblers of juice. I drank the coffee down almost before it had cooled enough; my palate took a beating with that one. No resolutions here; not for a while. If I'd quit worrying about things I had no control over, I might enjoy the weekend. And I was determined to do that.

I grabbed the juice and headed for the bedroom. Time to get Michael up, and see where the weekend would lead.

Michael: {I was floating in that sweet place, not quite asleep, not quite awake, warm and very comfortable. I burrowed into the pillow, and your scent enveloped me. I drifted upward toward full wakefulness, reaching out over the cool sheets, searching for you. Not there. I cracked open an eye, peered about. The bath was empty; I couldn't hear water running. A glance at the clock told me I was late waking up, but I'd worn myself out completely. I was a little sore, but it was a sweet discomfort, knowing how I'd gotten to that point. I rolled over with a sigh, and spied you standing in the doorway, arms crossed over your chest, bare except for those loose sweatshorts I liked so well, a smile curving your mouth. I blinked, then returned it sleepily, and made a beckoning motion with my hand, inviting you over for a moment of early morning snogging.} G'mornin'....c'mere....

Randy:            {What a sight for morning--a sleepy you. I pick up the tumblers I'd set on the dresser, before leaning against the doorframe, and head for the bed. They're safely on the bedside table before I settle onto the bed next to you, my body curling automatically around yours. I'm not even going to think about how good it feels to do this. I'm just going to go with it.} Morning, darlin'. Sleep well?

Michael:          Mmmm....{Your bare skin is chilly, but I wrap around you anyway. I press a kiss to the side of your neck, rub my mouth over your skin. You smell of soap and shaving cream, and I like it.} Lovely...wonderfully well. {I throw my leg over yours, drawing you closer. I know that we really need to be up and about, but I want to spend a moment feeling you against me, hard, solid, substantial.}

Randy:            {I hold you close for a minute, my body sparking. I swear I wasn't kidding last night; I haven't had this low of control over me or my dick since I was sixteen. Come to think of it, I think I had more, then. It feels good to touch you; to know you're real--and not a figment of my overworked imagination, like you were for so many nights.} You're warm... {I got chilled, running around nearly-naked, but didn't realize it 'til I snuggled up to you. You grin and hold me closer, and I give up fighting it, and lean in to kiss you.}

Michael:          {Your mouth is soft, and tastes of toothpaste. A chaste good morning kiss segues into something with more intent, warming me. I roll halfway atop you, sliding my arms around you. So very good to feel you, to lie in your arms. I release your mouth, and lie down, settling my head on your broad shoulder, smiling to myself.} Nice way to say good morning....

Randy:            Yeah, I've noticed mornings are a little more palatable when you've got this to wake up to. {I give you a grin and squeeze your ass gently before giving you a light smack there.} Want some juice? I figured you'd be thirsty... and as much as I'd love to lie here with you, we gotta get movin', darlin'. Need to get on the road in about an hour.

Michael:          I know, Caro. Work now, play later. {I give you one last squeeze, then kiss you soundly on your mouth before releasing you reluctantly. I'm a big boy, and can wait, though my body protests it, though my cock has other ideas. I shove into a sitting position against the headboard of your bed, bunching the covers over my lap, over my early morning erection. It will go down eventually; if I give in, I'll just be sleepy and want to burrow beneath the blankets for another nap, and I know we don't have time for that.} Thank you for the juice--I *am* very thirsty...though I can't possibly imagine why. {I grin at you, enjoying the comfortable feelings between us.} So what do we need to be doing, now?

Randy:            {I shift off of the bed, ignoring the fact that your cock is only inches away, that it wouldn't take anything to lean over and just-- Stop that, Taylor. Jesus.} Now, you need to hit the showers, darlin', and I need to throw some things in a bag. If it's okay, I thought we could just grab a bite to eat through a drive-through on the way to the Marina...and later, I'll fix us a proper meal, once we're at sea. {I head for my dresser; the further away from a still-warm, sleepy you, the better. Following my instincts in this instance wouldn't be a good thing. We'd never get out of here.}

Michael:          {From my perch in your bed, I watch you move about the room, completely unselfconsciously. It's an undeniably lovely sight. Though I'd not mind another roll about the linens, and I know you'd be happily compliant, we've things we need to be doing to get started. I stretch widely, luxuriously, and smile when you send a glance my way.}

Randy:            {I give you a crooked grin in answer, my own eyes sweeping over you. I haven't woke up to anything as nice as you in ages. I could get used to it.} Hit the showers, sailor, before the Capt'n has to step in.

Michael:          {I flash you another smile, then turn and pick up my juice glass, draining it on the way to your shower. I shower quickly, brush my teeth, shave. Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I realize I look as calm, as contented as I feel.} A night of good sex...no, fucking *great* sex will do that for one....{I murmur to my reflection, then return to your bedroom. You've stepped out, and I dress quickly in the jeans and a black sweatshirt and trainers before seeking you out to give you my offer of help.}

Randy:            {I pulled a sweatshirt over my tee against the early morning chill. I figure by the time we're out to sea I'll be able to strip it off. When I come back up from taking bags down to the truck you're leaning against the counter, drinking a cup of coffee. It's just past 7:30, so we're doing well for time.} All we have to take out is your bag, and the cooler--I got everything else down there, already. And once we get to the slip, I'll do the boat check if you can put stuff away in the galley and the cabin. Then we can get the hell out of Dodge for a few days. Um--didja bring a swimsuit? {I can't stop the leer in my voice, and rake my eyes over you, head to toe.} You won't need it, if you did.

Michael:          Actually, I forgot one...I hadn't given it much thought. I suppose I shall come back rather well-tanned. {With my olive coloring, I tan quickly, and easily, though I'm not quite sure I want my "dangly bits" as Lizzie once called them, that exposed to the sun. A sunburn there would cause an end to the fun we'd planned.} As for the division of labor...I'm a quick study. I pick up things quickly, and want to learn as much as you're willing to teach me.

Randy:            I'll teach you as much as you're comfortable learning, Michael. And yeah, darlin', I packed sunscreen. {You didn't ask the question, but I could see you weighing it in your eyes--and your comment about getting tanned was a good lead. I set our coffee cups in the sink and make sure the pot's unplugged, then grin.} Let's do it. Catch the door, will you? {You raise an eyebrow when I lift the cooler, grunting from the weight.} S'okay...I carry it alone when its just me going out. Just make sure the door's locked.

Michael:          {I shoulder my bag, and make certain the door is locked behind us. You've held the elevator for us, and I dash onto it, excited to be casting away the cares of real life for a long weekend of sand, surf, and you. Lovely thought. When the elevator gets to the lobby, I pick up one side of the cooler.} I *know* you can carry this...believe me, I know how strong you are, but I really want to carry my weight, here.

Randy:            Stubborn sonofagun, aren't you. {I grin, and acquiesce, deciding its nice to have someone to share *with*. I'm very used to doing for myself, because generally it's just myself to do for...but it's the two of us, at least for the next four days. That thought makes me warmer all over than I have a right to be feeling, and I cough once to shake it off a little. We settle the cooler into the back of the truck, with your bag tucked beside mine, next to it. I tighten down the tarp I've set over the bed, and wink.} All set, darlin'. Let's go.

Michael:          {I settle into the cab of the truck, grateful for its leg room. You whip us out of the parking lot, and we're on the road almost before I can blink. We run through a drive through and pick up some greasy breakfast food, but it tastes good, regardless. I think that it's the company, and the excitement of getting away for a bit. The radio is on again, and the cheery sound of what you laughingly call 'surfer music' wraps around us. Not my first choice, but I've could probably learn to like it. The day outside is beautiful, the sky clear and blue, and though it's still a bit chill, it feels as if it will warm nicely. I watch the scenery flash by, and smile to myself.}

Randy:            {The traffic's already heavy, even this early in the morning, and by the time we reach the off-ramp for the Marina, I'm swearing enough to sound like a true sailor. Usually it doesn't bother me this much, but today, all I want to do is stow our gear, complete the pre-sail check, and be *gone*. I want time alone with you, with just the wind and sea and sky for company. No distractions, nothing to bother us, or demand our attention away from each other. That first weekend we spent together was great, shit, it was beyond words. But it was fast, and frenzied, and so tense near the end... The last 48 hours have been equally great, but also tense, in their own way, with the added distracters of work. I look over at you, and you're looking out the window; the Marina is coming up on our right, and you can see the sails and rigging of hundreds of boats. I reach over and squeeze your thigh once, then lower the volume on the radio.} My slip is further down; we still have a little ways to go, but almost, darlin'. We're almost there. {I point out the different sloops, and yachts, and some of the differences between the sailing boats, and the "stinkpots", or motorized ones, with no sails. There're a few houseboats docked here, though not many, and a lot of smaller boats, as well. It's bright, and busy, and with the smell of salt in my nostrils now, I can feel myself beginning to itch to get out there; God, it's been a long time since I've been able to go.}

Michael:          {It's very *busy*. I'm vaguely surprised at the sheer number of people here, walking purposefully about. It's like the anthills we stirred with sticks as young lads. Everyone looks very happy; I see lots of children flashing around, and I'm very glad you're such an adept driver, and have such good reflexes. You point things out, showing me the different kind of boats. Down this close, the wind is brisker, and they bob up and down in their place. I'm reminded of spirited horses in their racing stalls, eager to be out and running. You pull into a fenced lot, and head for a reserved space, pulling into it with practiced ease, in spite of the jeeps and mini-vans surrounding it. After you park, we get out, and I help you with the tarp that had covered our belongings, and we start loading ourselves like pack animals. You're so happy, so...alive...that it's impossible to resist your good cheer.}

Randy:            {I know you're wondering which one is mine; even with the picture over my computer, to the unknowing, a lot of boats look alike. My slip is the second-to-the-last on the right side of this dock; nestled in between a *huge* motorized yacht, and a smaller motor boat. I have all the sails tied down right now, because I didn't want to have to replace them a third time, so she looks a little barren, but good to me, nonetheless. I step aboard, and gesture for you to follow.} Welcome to The Stuff of Dreams, Michael. Come on board.

Michael:          {It takes a second to acquaint myself with the up and down motion of the boat on the water, but I manage to board without falling into the water. On board, I have a moment of nausea at the pitching movement, and wonder if I'm going to be ill; I swallow, hard, determined not to give into the feeling, and after a moment it passes, and I'm fine. Though I was once on the sculling team during my university days, it's far different trying to stand and walk about, rather than sitting; beyond that, it's been years since those days-almost a whole lifetime ago. I pry my fingers from around the strap of my overnight bag, and set it down on the smooth wooden planks of the deck.} Thank you...I can't believe I'm finally here.

 

Randy:            Me neither. {I eye you carefully; you look a little green.} You need something for motion sickness? I have patches in the first aid kit--they work like Dramamine, but they won't make you as sleepy as that would. {You shake your head, and after a moment or two, your color improves. We hustle back to the truck to get the cooler, and to secure the tarp inside. Back onboard, you watch with some amusement as I exchange my sweatshirt for a windbreaker, and tie my hair back with a bandanna. I have sneakers on already; I never wear boots onboard--it scuffs the deck too much, and they're too slippery when it gets wet.} I have to climb the rigging and untie the sails--you want the tour now, or do you want to watch?

Michael:          Well, if you give me the tour now, I can be putting things away for you, and we'll be away that much faster. {Back onto the deck a second time, I feel a little more secure, less likely to be ill, but I'll keep your patches in mind. I'd not given any thought to being seasick, and I'll not let anything like that stop me from enjoying our time together.}

Randy:            All righty. One tour coming up. {I grin at you, and gesture toward the steps that lead down into the bowels of the craft. I've shouldered my bag, and you've got yours.} I have one cabin; it's forward; aft has the living area, and galley--kitchen, in land-speak--and makes the bulk of the ship. {I gesture to one wall behind us.} The galley's small, but has everything we need, and the 'head', {I open the door so you can see} is full-sized in miniature, with tub, shower, sink and toilet, and a small linen closet. {We go down the three steps that take us into the forward portion of the craft, and the cabin.} And finally, the cabin. {Smaller than a "real" bedroom, it has barely enough room to move around, but is still decent-sized, considering. I have a queen-sized bed in here, which takes up most of the room. The dresser consists of lots of drawers built into the wall, with a small TV/ VCR built into it's own cabinet. A chair is pushed under the small writing desk, with a lamp over it on one wall.} Small, but cozy. And plenty of room for two, for snuggling. {I wink at you.} C'mon, darlin', I gotta get us cast-off.

Michael:          {I reach for your bag, and give it and my own a toss onto the bed before following you back out. I'm surprised at how roomy it is; from the outside, it doesn't look this large. I'll bring the bags with the food, and the cooler back down in a moment, and unload them, get things put away whilst you do your pre-sailing check.}

Randy:            {It doesn't take long for me to check the ropes, making sure they're coiled, and not knotted; I double-check that we have freshwater reserves, and that the ship-to-shore radio is working. I check all emergency and first-aid supplies, then make sure the fire extinguishers on both decks are current and full. I know they are; I've not had to use them yet, but I have a checklist in my mind, and I've found its easier just to go through each point on it, and be sure that each item is covered, than risk not having something. I'm peripherally aware of you moving back and forth from below-decks to topside, but forget about everything but the wind blowing around me when I climb up the main mast to let the sails loose. I double-check the rigging, making sure there's nothing loose, and check the canvas to be sure there aren't any holes in these sails. It's beautiful up here, though cool, with the wind whipping around. It's a fairly fast wind, and I look forward to watching the sails billowing out with it. It takes a little while, climbing from one mast to the other, to check everything out, but I'd rather be safe than sorry. Sure at last, I climb down and secure the mainsail, then head for the rope securing us to the dock.} Ready to cast off, Michael. All ashore who's going ashore.

Michael:          {Finally finished with carrying things downstairs... belowdecks, I remind myself, I hear your cheery voice bounce down to where I'm putting things away in the small refrigerator. I call out to you to wait just a moment, then hurry with putting things into what appear to be their proper places. I tuck the cello bags into the area beneath the sink, and then pop up onto the deck. Your cheeks are already pinkened from exertion and wind, thick hair tossed every which way.} Thanks for waiting--I wanted to be here to see our first departure. {I don't realize that I've said *first* as though I'm assuming many more until it's already out, then give a mental shrug and grin, hoping you don't catch it.}

Randy:            I wasn't gonna leave 'til you were ready, darlin'. I want you up here, too. San Francisco is a beautiful city, and the bay is incredible when you're sailing out of it. Look over there, Michael--see how *blue* the sky is? Man-- {I take a deep breath; I know I'm on the verge of babbling, but frankly don't care. For the first time since I've met you I want this--for as long as I can have it. It's like my own little version of heaven. Salt-air, blue sky, wind blowing around me... and you--standing next to me, grinning like an idiot. I cast off, tossing the rope that's mooring us to the dock back toward it, and step up to the wheel to steer as the wind catches the sails. The motor will provide the impetus to get us out of the bay, but I love to watch the sails billowing. I catch your grin and answer it with my own, not needing words right now. This is just--it's all I could ask for, at the moment.}

Michael:          {I stand closely at your side, somewhat behind you so as not to hamper your movements, and watch the dock recede. I'm so glad we're finally away from all the hustle-bustle of our lives, finally able to relax. This will be a new experience for me; though I've had acquaintances with yachts, I've never had a reason to be aboard one, and it's been almost a lifetime ago that I'd been sculling. It's much different than sculling--with that, you merely sit and row...it had taken a moment to get the knack of standing, and walking about without crashing into something, now I feel very comfortable. I place a hand lightly on your shoulder, and you turn your head enough to spare me a quick grin before returning your attention to what you're doing. I watch for a long time, until the shoreline gets very small, and there are too many boats between us and it to see clearly.}

Randy:            {It takes us a good hour or two to clear the bay traffic. There're several clusters of small islands about a day's sail--winds prevailing--from Frisco Bay, and that's where I want to take you. Plenty of room, and lots of small inlets for privacy. Once we're out on open ocean, I let the mainsail furl completely open, to fully catch the wind. It's a beautiful day, perfect for sailing. I glance over at you; you've moved here and there a few times, looking around, but you haven't gone far from me.}How're you doin', Michael?

Michael:          Trying to look at everything at once. {I grin ruefully.} There's simply so much to learn...and that you can sail this alone doesn't cease to amaze me.

Randy:            It's as big as can go for a single person. Any bigger, I'd need at least a second person along, always. {I give you a sideways glance, then return to my steering. My whole body feels--alive. Like I've been asleep for the last month, and am just now coming awake again. I reach into the pocket of my windbreaker, and pull out the small bottle of sunscreen, then hand it off to you.} Your ears are already starting to look pink, darlin'. Best stop it before it happens. {I shift back onto my stool, settling myself more comfortably.} There're some deck chairs down in the storage closet belowdecks--you'd be more comfortable than standing for hours, man. I'll put anchor down in a couple, and we can eat--maybe take a swim, if you want. No rush, Michael. We stop and go as we please.

Michael:          I like a man with a plan. {I take the bottle and tip out a little of it, applying the liquid to ears and nose. Normally, I don't like it, and don't need it, but for me, I'm winter pale, and whilst I don't burn much, I could. You, however, would; your skin is as pale as cream. I still think you must have some Black Irish blood dancing in your veins; your skin is light and fine--I should know, as I've tasted, touched, caressed almost every centimeter of it. I smile to myself at the thought, then reach up to slick some of it on your neck, cheeks, and nose, where you're pink. You tolerate it, busy with the wheel, then turn your head slightly when I've finished and slip the bottle back into your jacket pocket. A wink, a quick smile of thanks, and I'm warmed, pleased more than such a simple act should make me.}

Randy:            {It felt oddly good to have someone do that for me--such a little thing, but still nice. And helping me carry the stuff onboard this morning... It's been a long time since I had anyone around to *help*...to do things for me; to do things *for*. It's been nearly four years since Bran and I finally called it quits, and I've been relationship-shy since then. You're still next to me, looking around at the vastness around us.} Makes you feel kind of ...insignificant, doesn't it. {I gesture toward where the blue of the water mixes with the blue of the sky, becoming nearly indistinguishable from the other.} Out here...it's like there's freedom *everywhere*. Just wind, and water, and sky...nothing to trap you in, or hold you down...and Mother Nature doesn't care about anything but her own whims. C'mere, darlin'. You can get a different perspective. {I step away from the wheel, making an inviting gesture.} I won't abandon you, Michael--I'll be right behind you.

Michael:          {I step up before you, and after a heartbeat's worth of hesitation, take the wheel. Though I know how to drive a car, I don't often, as Miles takes me everywhere. And this...this is far different. The feel is different, as is the sound of wind and surf, the creaking of the deck, the slap of canvas against wood, and the heavy flutter of the sails in the wind. Though I know I can't *crash* into anything, I've never liked appearing incompetent, and feel a shadow of nervousness slid over me. But then, your muscular arms slip around my own, and your body leans into mine as your hands settle over my own, guiding with a light touch. It's lovely, comforting, and I like it. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see you gazing out over my shoulder, green eyes behind the gold frames looking both intense, and far away at the same time.}

Randy:            This...is what sailing is about, Michael. {I lean a little toward your ear, my voice low.} It's experiencing Nature at her best...her worst... If you close your eyes for a minute, you can feel the deck rolling gently beneath you--kinda like a mother rocking her baby, or two people making love. The sun is warm, the heat almost a caress. The wind adds a freshness, and it's own caresses, and the spray of the water reminds you of where you are. {I give a little laugh. I hadn't intended to wax poetic like that, but nothing can do it to me like the feelings I get when I'm out here. I can feel some of the tension radiating out of you, but lessening a little at the same time, when you realized I wasn't going to leave you. I like the feel of you against me like this, your body hard and warm, a very nice pressure. Makes a little ache in my chest intensify, and that's an ache that's best left be. I sigh, and step a little closer, fitting myself to you.} Glad you're here, Michael.

Michael:          {I don't say anything, but I slant a smile down at you, and relax into your embrace. I'm not certain how long we stay like this; time seems to lose its meaning out here, mixing with the wide open spaces, the rhythm of the sea and wind, the wideness of the blue, blue sky. I can begin to see why you love this so; it's just one in synch with the elements, and the pleasure of being so connected with nature is visceral. After awhile, you slip away from me to do something or another; I'm not sure what, though in a bit, you return to my side, standing companionably. In a moment, your arm slides naturally about my waist.} The Piersons originally made their fortune in shipping, did you know that? Back a bit over two hundred years ago, we were quite a name in the shipping industry.

Randy:            {I laugh and let my fingers dance over your ribs briefly.} Shipping, or pirating? {Your eyes flash up to mine, and I smirk.} C'mon, darlin'. You'd make a helluva pirate--put a bandana on you, and maybe an earring. {I touch your ear.} 'Course, I'm the Captain of this vessel, so not sure how that would work--you could always threaten to make me walk the plank if I didn't warm your bed... not that there'd be much of a choice on that accord. You're a lot warmer.

Michael:          {I laugh, and bump my hip against yours.} I'd probably be the one in danger if I *didn't* take you to my bed. We made our money legitimately, for the most part. Rum, spices, slaves--though the latter makes me cringe, now. Spices segued into medicinal herbs, and one of my relatives became more interested in that, and slowly, the focus shifted to pharmaceuticals, where we've remained to this day. I'm certain, though, we've had many a colorful character in the family history.

Randy:            Rum, spices and slaves, to medicinal herbs and pharmaceuticals. Interesting leap, that. {I shift to stand back behind you, showing you how to adjust the sails, and correct our course--such as it is.}My family had some interesting characters too--very colorful. My great-grandfather on Mom's side was an abolitionist, and him practically off the boat from Ireland. My grandmother had some journals of his, and they were full of his rambles about "freeing oppression world-wide", and stuff like that. {I frown.} And dad's family was staunch in their support of the Confederacy. If my folks had been alive in the mid-1800's, I doubt I would ever have been born--they'd have killed each other on sight, probably. You have any family over here? Or they all in Europe?

 

Michael:          All in Europe. My brother Simon and his family live in London--he's a high-profile banker. Sarah and her family live in the Cotswolds, where she writes very flowery romances. Jaimie lives primarily in Paris--he's a portrait artist, and very good at what he does. And Lizzie...{even I can hear the warmth when I speak her name} ...Lizzie is a medical student in Oxford, almost ready to graduate. Lovely girl. Mother still lives with Nonna in the family home. They've all been here, but unlike me, they always return to home soil. Myself, I've been here for so long it seems as if I belong here now.

Randy:            {I catch myself before I say that I feel like you belong here, too--because we'd be talking about different 'here's', I think. My stomach does that little roll and clench I've come to expect whenever a stray thought like that pops up, and I squash it. Dangerous, very dangerous thinking. It's nice, too, listening to you talk about your family. Lizzie, especially, seems to be closest to you. I'll have to get you to find a photo of them sometime, so I can see who you're talking about. I shift around, making myself comfortable behind you, sighing a little when you lean back into me again. I could stay this way for a long time, and be perfectly content. I close my eyes for a minute, doing what I'd said to you, earlier. Just *feeling*, and hearing everything. Soft, comforting noises. Wind, water, creaking, slapping; for a moment I'm back in time, sleeping out on the deck with dad, laughing about how the girls had to stay at home. Mom was pregnant with Patty... } Do you go--home much? To see them?

Michael:          The nice thing about being in charge is that I'm seldom answerable to anyone but the board, and as long as I do my job efficiently, they don't care how I manage my time. So yes, I go frequently. Always at Christmas--always. Usually once in the summer, and whenever I can take the odd few days off. It's beautiful, there. Quiet, peaceful--in the country, far away from the hustle of bigger cities. It's remained unchanged, except for the addition of modern facilities, for almost two centuries. {I find myself smiling nostalgically.} And then there's Nonna...she's eighty-five, and I go frequently to make certain she's all right--though I swear, she's more robust and hardy than the rest of us.

Randy:            Nonna...your grandmother, right? {I'm still goggling silently at the thought of going to Europe, 'just for a few odd days'.}

Michael:          Yes. She came with Mother from Italy when Father married her, and has been with us all our lives. She's...very important to me. {I'm not certain if there are words that can express how vital she's been in my life. No one has ever given me the unconditional love and acceptance as Nonna--Mother came close, but not even she could accept me totally, as Nonna did, and still does.} I'd think...she'd like you, very much.

Randy:            She would? {I blink, leaning down to shift the wheel around a little. You smell good, and I kiss your neck on my back up.} She doesn't--does she know you're gay? Does anyone in your family, for that matter?

Michael:          Yes, I think she would. You're very open and honest, and she likes that quality in a person, as she's ruthlessly honest, in only the way the strong-willed elderly can be. {I'm silent for a moment, and feel a frown tug at the corner of my mouth.} I've never kept much of anything from my family, Caro. They know my preferences. I wish I could say they approved, but I'm afraid they merely tolerate me. And I'm not certain you could say I was gay--I've never been one for labels, but if pressed, I'd call myself bisexual. {I know that as close as we seem to have gotten, I owe you more than the little bits I've offered you.} I've...loved men and women both. I've been married, once. It seems a lifetime ago.

Randy:            {When your words sink in, it's almost like a bucket of ice water dropping over my head.} Married? When? To--why? Why both, I mean? {I didn't mean the tenseness that crept into my body, and after the first volley of questions, it eases away again. It's not--judgment, exactly. But I don't understand how--or why--you could want both.} Have you--always? Liked both, I mean? Oh, wow, Michael. Wild, man. I guess I thought... well, never mind. Doesn't matter.{I shift around, not letting go completely, but I want to see your face.} Did your marriage break up because of--different tastes?

Michael:          {I know I've startled you, and I can't blame you for being so surprised; I've given no indication in the time I've known you that I cared for anything but the pleasures of male flesh. A soft puff of a sigh escapes me, and I wonder how great a difference this will make between us.} I know that for some gay men, I'm seen as someone who doesn't have the nerve to simply declare himself a gay man, but it isn't that way for me. I've honestly liked both men and women equally since a youth, and have never seen a reason to limit myself when there was so much pleasure to be had if one was simply more...open. I love the softness of women, how they sound, how they open for me. I also love how men are hard and strong, and the taste of their seed excites me as few other things can. {I shrug.} And as for Nicole and myself...you might say our lives grew in different directions. I can be a difficult person even in the best of times, and whilst I was married to her...it was simply not the best of times.

 

Randy:            Ahh. {I nod, studying you, considering your words.} Well, I can't say I'm not surprised, because it's pretty obvious I am. {I give you a tentative smile, then lean in and give you a quick kiss. When I pull away from you, your body has lost a little of its tension as well.} I've known a few people--hell, I *know* a couple, right now--who are bisexual. And that's cool. {I shrug.} It never made a lot of difference to me--other than I couldn't understand the *why*. I mean, I hear what you're saying--about why limit yourself. But honestly, I've never been the least bit interested in anyone *but* men. {I laugh a little, and give you a rueful grin.} Anyway, since I'm generally the one who likes to be fucked, I'm not so sure how that would work with a woman, anyway. Unless they strap something on, it's kind of physically impossible for them to give me what *I* want. Y'know?

 

Michael:          {That's one of the things I like so well about you; you're not afraid to say the most outrageous things. I can't help the snort of amusement that comes from me.} I suppose that I'm fortunate that I have the proper equipment, eh?

Randy:            {My mouth quirks upward along with my eyebrow.} Well, it's a little more than *just* the proper equipment... {I stop, considering how I want to say what I want to say. Your eyes are warm, and I realize that they've lightened a little--almost a blue-grey, now. Keeping in synch with moods, with surroundings.} I like the feel of men, Michael. No, I don't have any experience with women to know that I like men better... but my very first experience with a guy... he was bigger than me, and strong; I liked his weight *on* me. I'd jerk off and go to sleep at night, picturing that in my mind. I like the *scent* of men--sweaty, clean, hot, whatever. Women...I dunno. They smell very different, and it's too... light, I guess. Or something. {I sigh in frustration, not sure I'm saying what I want to say.} It's like...I've always known I was gay. I've always wanted men, *always*. As far back as I can remember. I have a lot of friends who are women, and men whose female relatives I get along with... but to me, they're just not what I'm hardwired to, I guess. {I shrug.} I don't think I explained that the way I wanted to... but that's it. It goes beyond a cock and a set of balls. It's the whole of the package, I guess. {I wink and give you a smile.} And I like your package--all of it.

Michael:          Something I'm very glad of, if I've not mentioned it before. {You shift closer, nuzzling against my neck, and the shiver that runs through me has nothing to do with the breeze, and everything to do with your warmth around me, the wet lick of your tongue, and the soft, husky whisper in my ear. I lean back a little into the cradle of your hips.} I'll keep that in mind, Caro.

Randy:            You do that, darlin'. {I step a little closer, not making any further moves, just enjoying the closeness. I can feel my body relaxing the further we get from the mainland, and at the same time, tensing up--the sexual tension that seems to be omnipresent between us. This is good, letting you stay at the wheel, and just holding on to you. I like holding you, touching you--there've been a couple of times in the last two days that I've wondered if you were an addiction. Or becoming one. I sigh and rub my chest against you, feeling free for the first time in weeks.}

Michael:          {It's really...nice, doing this. I give a mental snort. Nice. What an insipid word. But somehow, it still is nice. Standing here with you closely behind me, your arms about me, big, capable hands covering mine on the wheel...it's peaceful, sexual, sensual, friendly...a mix of many things. I like it, whatever it is. I could do this, I think, forever. I can hear you hum little snatches of song occasionally, and you correct our course once in awhile. I'm not certain how much time passes; here, time seems irrelevant, but I do know it passes. Nothing much verbally passes between us, and it's an easy, comfortable silence, filled with the sound of sea and wind. The sky seems impossibly blue, with only a few high, wispy clouds that signal good, clear weather. The sails billow out above us, catching the wind, skimming us along the water with a speed that seems amazing. For a moment, I lose myself in the thought of sailing back generations ago, when the wind was all the power a ship had, and wonder vaguely what it would have been like, living so long ago in the past.}

Randy:            {I glance up at the sky, then down at my watch; just gone two p.m. My belly is grumbling; apparently, it doesn't think that two greasy egg-n-biscuit sandwiches constitute breakfast. We're five hours gone from Frisco, still out in nowhere...but it feels okay right now. I'm hungry, I'm thirsty, and I'm warm. I'm also horny...something about the mental pictures I was painting for you. I do want to make love tonight, but right now a little frisky business sounds good, too. I let my hands off the wheel and stroke them down your chest, a light, easy touch, and lean to kiss your neck again.} Hey, darlin'... I'm getting hungry...how 'bout you?

Michael:          {Hypnotic, that's what it is. I blink, and come back to myself, registering what you've said. Yes, I could eat; my belly feels quite hollow. And a good sit-down would be welcome, also, as I realize that I've been standing, scarcely moving, for a very long time. Your hand slips beneath the hem of my sweatshirt, and rubs across my stomach, fingers ruffling lightly through the line of hair. I wriggle against the dual sensation of your hand and your lips, not certain which feels better.} Yes, I'm absolutely starving. How long have we been out?

Randy:            Well over five hours. And a lot longer than that, since breakfast. {I rub one hand down over the front of your pants; you're not hard, but there's a bit of a bulge there. I stroke you gently, then let go.} I'm gonna toss out the anchor. Here is as good as anywhere for a few more hours, and I'm starved. {I let my eyes linger on your for a minute, my voice a little deeper.} All parts of me.

Michael:          {I twist in your embrace, slide my arms about you. Leaning in, I give you a long, probing kiss. When I pull back, we're both swaying a little, nothing to do with the movement of the boat.} Do what you must to park this thing, and I'll have something for you down below.

Randy:            {I give you a cheerful salute and a wicked grin, then turn to toss the anchor over the side of the boat. It takes a minute for it to grab, and there's a bit of a jerk when it does, and then we're slowing, and stopping. I drop the sails, not wanting them billowing like that when we're standing still, then head down belowdecks to see what you're up to. It's cooler down here; I hadn't realized how warm it was, until the boat slowed; the wind had been keeping us fairly cool. Down here is darker; the blinds over the portholes were still closed, shading it. I don't see you, and pull my shirt over my head, wiping at my neck and forehead.} Michael? Where're you at, darlin'?

Michael:          Galley. {True to my word, I'd gone down and pulled out materials to make sandwiches, setting everything out on paper plates. You come into the galley area as I'm setting them on the table, rubbing your neck with your wadded T-shirt. I turn back to the fridge, and pull out two bottles of iced tea, shoving the door closed with my hip. I slip in front of you, press a quick kiss to your neck.} Very nice...eau de sweaty man...

Randy:            {My stomach growls audibly, and I grin, giving my chest a final swipe with the shirt before tossing it over the back of the couch. One touch of your lips isn't enough, and I grab on to your right arm, stalling your withdrawal, bringing my mouth down on yours. My stomach isn't the only thing growling; I can hear the noises in my throat. I really do enjoy kissing you--which could be why it seems like I could do it all the time. We're both a little breathless when I let you go, and I laugh at your raised eyebrow.} Must be the salt air. Brings it out in me, or something.

Michael:          {I laugh, but it comes out breathy, and bring up a hand to run over your chest, rubbing my thumb over a nipple, bringing it up into a little nub.} After we eat, we might see what comes out, eh?

Randy:            {I laugh; I'm a little breathless, too. You opened one porthole--I can feel the sudden breeze against my damp skin, prickling me with gooseflesh. Feels good. As good as the heat you're throwing. My stomach growls then, reminding me I need more than just kisses. I give you a grin.} Feed me, darlin'. Before I melt into nothing.

Michael:          {I twist open one of the bottles of tea, and hand it to you, watching the long line of your throat, the movement of it as you drain half of it in one gulp. Shaking myself, I sit down opposite you in the booth and start making sandwiches--roast beef, Swiss, grainy dark mustard. Pickles at the side for you--I don't care for them all that much. Some huge Kalamari olives would be lovely, but you don't have those, and I give a mental shrug. Next time, I'll help you stock for the trip, and set in a supply for myself. The thought makes me blink. It was so easy to slide into the assumption that there would *be* a next time. I don't know anything of the sort, and have no right to insinuate myself into your life, your plans, simply because the thought of it pleases me. And it does please me; I'm more comfortable, happier than I can remember being for ages. I glance at you beneath my lashes. You certainly look happy, pleased to have me here. Hell, you'd not have invited me if you didn't find my company pleasing. Stop thinking, Pierson. Don't analyze--just enjoy the gift you've been given, and accept it in the spirit it's offered. Very well. I smile to myself and dig into my sandwich.}

Randy:            {I eat about half my sandwich before my belly quiets enough to let me think about anything besides filling it. You have a thoughtful look on your face, and I wonder what thoughts are running through your mind. I reach out and tap your hand with my fingers; I cover them briefly before pulling back, giving you a little twist of a grin.} I don't get into it much normally, but fishing's great, out here. Want to give it a go, later? When the sun's gone down, some? {I flick my eyes down at my plate, then back at you, my voice going a little huskier when I add,} I'm really glad you came.

Michael:          Fishing really isn't my cuppa, to be honest. I've acquaintances who come out to snag sailfish, but I'd much rather watch them swimming and leaping from the sea than to wrestle them into a boat. I'm not much of a hunter, either, much to my family's dismay. I'm a decent shot, but only at clay pigeons, not the real kind. And fox hunting is merely an excuse to tear across the countryside, as far as I'm concerned--I've no interest in the kill. {I shrug a little.} I'm not much for sports of blood. {I nudge your foot with mine, and smile at you.} And I'm very glad I'm here, also.

Randy:            Mmmm. {I slip my deck shoes off and stroke my toes over your calf, rubbing and massaging gently.} Well, I don't trophy-fish, and I can't stand hunting in any form. But I do like fresh fish on occasion. I brought plenty of groceries though; fishing is just something extra that could be done--it's not a 'have to'. {I watch the grin spread across your face when I shift and stroke up behind your knee. I think that's a tickle spot for you.} Besides--all I really want to do with you... I dunno. Talk, get to know you... show you how great sex in a boat is. {I add a grin of my own and raise my eyebrow with that.}

Michael:          {Well. Evidently the fresh air raises hungers of all kinds within you. I could like this, very much. I slip from the booth, pick up my empty plate, and give it a toss into the trash before reaching down to strip off my sweatshirt on the way to the bedroom. Once inside, I kick off my shoes, pull off my socks, and unbutton and unzip my jeans. A quick toss, and our bags are on the floor, and I'm lying on my back, looking up at the ceiling, letting my hands stroke over my chest and down over the front of my jeans. I raise my voice slightly, tone snarky enough to catch your attention.} So? I'm waiting....

Randy:            {You've obviously figured out that I'm not one to back down from a challenge, or a good offer, and since this is both, I pounce accordingly. You taste delicious, as I work my way up your body. It's not long before both of us are naked, rubbing and writhing together, rocking in time with the waves slapping at the sides of the boat. I can't believe how good sex with you *feels*. It's hot, and intense, and very physical, with both of us giving it everything we have.

You don't seem to mind at all topping. I know some guys like to switch, and I have taken my turn doing the fucking a couple of times--but I much prefer to be fucked, like I told you. I slide onto my back beside you, lifting my legs, shuddering when you take me with a sudden burst of fierceness. Your eyes are hot and dark, and I wonder what you're thinking, what you're feeling. I could lose myself in this, in the sensations you generate inside me.

When you force my legs back, hammering into me with short, fast strokes, the look of intense pleasure on your face is almost as much what makes me come, as what you're doing to me. When you come, it's with a long, breathless grunt that seems to surround us, mingling with my moans of just a moment ago. We're both hot and sweaty when you fall against me, and even though I have to catch my breath, and it's hard to do with you lying on me, I want you there--hot, sweaty, both of us breathless and sated. I wiggle beneath you after just a minute, wanting your mouth on me, completing what we just shared. I turn my head then, my mouth searching out yours, covering it, stroking my tongue all around, wanting to maintain the connection for as long as possible.}

Michael:          {I'm forced to give up trying to return your kisses in favor of breathing. I pant against your throat, and I'm filled with your scent, filled with completion, and a sense of contentment so strong I want to laugh aloud with it. I barely manage to stifle it; you'd think me insane. Your legs wrap even more tightly about me as I begin to soften and go flaccid within you, as if you can't bear the separation. Gently I tip us to our sides--I know I'm heavier than I look, and don't want to crush you. Ah, that's much better; I can wind my arms about you, hold you close, feel your smooth hard chest rise and fall against mine, feel your heart beat against mine. I can feel the smile spread across my face, and nuzzle into your throat. Perfect. You're so perfect for me.} Thank you, Caro....

Randy:            Ah, darlin'... it was good...{I love how you feel in my arms. You're so warm, so hard and heavy against me. The weight of another person... I resolutely push away the panic that feeling that need brings up in me, and pull you closer, twining myself tighter around you. You're kissing my throat, easy, soft kisses, and I shift, tilting my head down to see you.} Kiss me--?

Michael:          {Always. I don't think I'll ever get tired of kissing you, of feeling your mouth soft and open beneath me, feeling your tongue tangle with mine in sweet slow motion. My hand comes up to tilt your face to the angle I want, and my fingers linger to stroke over the sharp line of your jaw, the strong smooth line of your throat. If I could do nothing else but this, I'd be content. I nibble at your lower lip, then suck gently at it before slipping down to suck at your Adam's apple; your hum of pleasure vibrates against my lips, tickling, and I pull back with a little laugh. You make me very happy, and I squeeze you hard for a moment.}

Randy:            Feels good... doesn't it. Just--letting go, knowing no one else is around. {My fingers want to explore, so I let them, stroking over your face, tracing peaks and ridges, adding sensory to visual, burning you into my memory. I lean forward and blow a raspberry at the base of your throat, in the hollow there, laughing when you stiffen with surprise, then buck against me as I do it again. Your skin is very smooth, very soft right here, almost like a baby's might be, and its such a contrast. I like hearing you laugh, and I blow a third one, just for that purpose.}

Michael:          You're a madman. {I can't believe you did that; no one's done that to me since I was a child, and I'd forgotten how much it tickles, what a rude sound it makes. The laugh bubbles out of me, and I feel freer, easier than I have in...god, longer than I can easily recall. I like it, and want more of it.} I'm trapped, in the clutches of an insane man, leagues from any help...I suppose I'm doomed to be victim to his nefarious plotting....

Randy:            Yep, you're doomed all right. {Your eyes are--light. Silvery, almost. Not the silver heat of pure arousal, but a different kind, a glow from behind them, I guess. I push at you, rolling you onto your back, and kiss my way down your chest, making sure to keep the kisses light and easy, non-arousing. This is for pleasure, but a different kind.} And yes, I'm a madman, I suppose. All that time alone, out on the seas... {I wink and give you an evil chuckle, then lower my head and blow another raspberry right over your navel, tickling you with my tongue.}

Michael:          {I let my fingers stroke over your broad shoulders, thread through your thick hair. I think I'm addicted to the pleasure of touching you; I could do it all the time, I think. When you have the audacity to do that again, against my belly, I jump, startled.} You're incorrigible.

Randy:            I am. I'm not gonna apologize for it, either. {I laugh, and sit up, folding my legs in. I consider showing you where *else* a raspberry might be placed--and have it be considerably more arousing than tickling, but forego that for the moment. I'm liking just being here, laughing with you.} You must have something in you that likes bad boys, huh.

Michael:          { I stretch widely, arms and legs going in all directions. Folding my arms behind my neck, completely comfortable with you in a way I've not been with anyone else, I grin before I answer.} I've always liked the bad boys. The good ones were always too sensible to have anything to do with anyone as wild as I once was.

Randy:            'Once was'? {I answer your grin with my own, and raise an eyebrow, thinking of last night--shit, *just* last night!--and an impromptu blowjob beneath the boardwalk.} I'm not so sure you qualify for past tense there, Michael. {I let my eyes wander the length of you, wishing I could paint, or draw, or *something*. You're so long, all lean muscle and angles, covered with a generous mat of curly dark hair on your chest, and at your groin. There's silver threaded here and there through your hair, and I bring my lazy gaze back to your eyes; yours are crinkled, smiling, watching me.} How old are you, anyway? Maybe past tense *is* appropriate. {I duck the pillow you toss my way.}

Michael:          Best be careful, Caro...you'll never make it to thirty-one, at this rate. {I stretch out a leg, and rub my foot against your thigh.} I'm thirty-eight...shall be thirty-nine this October. It's been a...full...thirty-eight years. Carpe diem, and all that rot.

Randy:            {I blink at you for a minute; for an occasional minute here and there, you've seemed much younger, and much older. I renew my conviction that I want nothing to do with administration of anything.} If you do away with me now, you'll have to figure out to get back to land yourself. October, huh? When? {I squelch my other memories of October, telling them firmly to *stay put*, they have no place here and now.}

Michael:          Halloween. {I laugh, though it's a little rueful.} My mother once said that it was an appropriate birthdate, given that she was sometimes convinced I was a devil. Certainly, I was never much of an angel, and even Nonna was forced to admit that, as much as she championed me. The role of angel was always Simon's, not mine.

Randy:            {I cock my head, studying you.} Well, I don't see any horns...but you're an awful long way from angelic, in my opinion. And you fuck like a demon--though that's definitely a good thing. {I laugh and stretch.} Thirty-nine. Wow. I'll have to think of something appropriate to mark the occasion. {I could bite my tongue at that comment; what gives me the right to assume that you're going to want to still be around, five months from now? Taylor, that was a moment of supreme arrogance. With luck, you'll ignore it, and not think of me as some kind of sentimental, sappy fool.}

Michael:          You've a creative mind--I'm sure you'll think of something, though it might be a stretch--there's little I've not done in my years. {I didn't miss the assumption you would be around for my birthday, nor the quick flush of color up your throat as you realized what you'd said. I'm not certain when it happened, but somewhere along the line I came to the realization this wasn't a quick sexual romp, but something I wanted to continue on for awhile. I'd not had so much pleasure out of a lover's company for a long time, and discovered I wanted to keep you about. You make me laugh, let me relax, and I value that, after having been without it for so long.}

Randy:            Guess we'll see, huh. {I don't want to assume too much, but I can feel myself relax a little. At least you didn't say right out, 'no chance, mate, you'll not be around that long'. That's something, right? Of course, *wanting* to still be around... wanting you around me... makes my stomach twist. Good, bad, scary, exciting. Friends. We can be friends... and lovers. Maybe not be alone for a while. That'd be nice. I shift off the bed and stretch again, a bone-cracking, joint-popping effort, then grin down at you.} Want to shower, or go for a swim?

Michael:          Swim. I've not been in a couple of days, and my body is complaining. I've swam, and run for so many years, that I miss it when I don't.} I roll off the bed and onto my feet in a smooth motion, then give a stretch huge enough to rival yours. I feel good, my body humming pleasantly, contented and sated.} Lead on, MacDuff.

Randy:            {I stop in the head for the large tube of sunscreen I keep there. Even as dark as you are, you're still winter-pale. Me, I would do nothing but burn without it--at least for the first few times out. Eventually I'll tan, but I've been cursed with fair skin that requires coddling.} I doubt there's anyone around to see us--but I can give you a pair of trunks, if you're more comfortable that way. Once we get to the islands, the lagoon we'll drop anchor in is *perfect* for swimming in our skins--but out here, its your choice, darlin'.

Michael:          {I follow you out of the bedroom; your hand is warm in mine, and fits there perfectly. Broad, strong, callused with your work on the boat, and it gives me such pleasure.} It can never be said that I suffer from excess modesty...au naturale is fine with me.

Randy:            Cool, dude. {I laugh at the startled look on your face.} Yeah, y'all probably didn't get much of the "valley-speak" back there in England, didja. {You shake your head, obviously not having a clue what I'm talking about, and I laugh again. On deck, we take turns rubbing the sunscreen all over each other, taking care to get the very unprotected areas: genitals and rears. I have no desire whatsoever to have our pleasure of each other hindered in any way this weekend--and sunburn in either of those areas would only do that. I pull a couple of large, thick beach towels from the storage box on deck, and set them on the bench for us. You're watching, an odd look in your eyes.} Just down the ladder, Michael. I'll go first. Warning for you--the Pacific is still pretty cool this time of year. {I back down the ladder slowly. Cold water doesn't bother me--but it does require a few moments to get used to.}

Michael:          {I watch you backing down the ladder carefully, and grin. I step back a couple of feet, take a running start, and leap over the rail, curling into a ball just before hitting the water. Jesus, you weren't kidding; it feels like the arctic when compared to my sun-warmed skin. Kicking to the surface, I splutter, trying to catch my breath, and I swear my genitalia are trying to crawl back into my body.} Fuck, YES, it's cold!!

Randy:            {After your cannonball shot, I give up trying to ease into the water, and dive in, resurfacing just in time to hear your shout. You're still sputtering a bit, and I think your skin has enough gooseflesh to qualify you as a new life form. I swim over to you and reach out, wrapping my legs around yours, laughing.} You'll warm up in a minute. Don't be a wuss, Pierson. Cold water is the best for a body, anyway. {My reward for that is a salty taste when you splash water into my face.} Wanna water fight, eh?

Michael:          You most likely play dirty...and I'm certain that I do. {I sometimes feel the water is my true element, I feel so comfortable in it. Pliable as an eel, I slip from your grip and dive under, to grab an ankle and pull you beneath the water before abandoning your kicking body to swim strongly away from you, certain that were I telepathic, I'd have a head full of swearing. I surface, flinging hair from my face, and laugh up into the blue sky.}

Randy:            Son-of-a-- {I take off after you, feeling well-matched for upper-body strength. You're a powerful swimmer, but so am I. I dive under and grab your legs, pulling you down with me, then pushing off of you to resurface. All's fair in love and war--and water fights qualify. God, it's good to have someone to play with again.}

Michael:          {We roll and tumble through the water like otters. I'm hard to catch, but you're hard to escape, and the balance shifts between us, as fluid as the water all about us. Finally, tired, we kick off into lazy floating on our backs, and the sun feels good, warming us. I like this; no hurrying, no schedules, no place to be and nothing to do until hunger, or a desire to be someplace else motivates us. I couldn't do it all the time, but for now, it's a welcome respite.}

 

Randy:            {We float for a while, talking about nothing in particular, and sometimes not talking. It's the easiest, most comfortable silence I've had in a long time, and it's heightened when I close my eyes for a few minutes, then open them to find silvery-grey watching me. I love your eyes; you're much more expressive within them than I think you're aware of. I'm learning--your face betrays nothing you don't want it to, but your eyes... that's harder for you to do. I have to take a leak, so I flip over and swim around to the end of the boat; it seems like a rather intimate thing to do right here--and it would be pretty noticeable too, in the cold water. When I come back, you've changed position, and you're treading water, looking around at the unchanging vista all around us.} I'm hungry again--wanna get a bite, then head out?

Michael:          That sounds like a plan we can work with. Captain's discretion. And you're always hungry, from what I've seen. {I grin, watching you climb the ladder with unabashed appreciation, the water sheeting from your strong, planed body, sun glinting off flexing muscles.}

Randy:            Yeah, most always. Takes a lot to feed a growing boy. {I turn and hand you the spare towel as you come over the top of the ladder, holding my own in lax hands as I watch you dry off. Gorgeous. I could watch you move all day and never get tired of it. And all that curly hair, with droplets of water still clinging. I lean in close and move my mouth over your collarbone, then downward, tasting crinkly hair against my tongue, little bursts of salt exploding over my tastebuds, underscored by the taste of you.} Mmmmm. Salt-seasoned Pierson. I could do that dish again... {I wink suggestively and give you a playful leer, then toss my head.} We could just do alfresco up here--sandwiches or something, while we go. It's too beautiful to stay belowdecks right now.

Michael:          I'm all for that. This country is enough to turn one into a sun-worshipper...it's never quite this sunny in England. It seems there's always a bit of a haze there. {I stand for a minute, face up into the sun, letting it warm me. It *is* a delightful feeling, the heat spreading slowly over my naked body like warm honey.} I am so very glad I came, Caro.

Randy:            Me, too. {I didn't mean for my voice to come out so husky, but damn--watching you turn into the sun like that... I have to push away the image of us rolling about on the deck, sun hitting us in places it normally wouldn't, adding a natural heat to the one we generate. Okay, so my whole body is tingling now. It's a great feeling, and I roll with it, wanting to increase it. I step behind you, snaking my arms around your waist to pull you against me. You're warm--like living heat in my arms. I close my eyes and hold you against me, feelings and sensations pulsing through me. You smell good; sharp and briny, like the sea we were just in; the smell of coconut mingling with it, and the warm smell of *you* thick in my nostrils when I nuzzle against your neck. I don't want the sudden wave of emotion that surges through me--emotion doesn't have a place here. This is...good, and comfortable, and so very dangerous, but I can't help but pull you a little closer, whispering in your ear,} Feels good--holding you.

Michael:          {There's more in your husky voice than I think you realize. I've known from the very beginning you were more emotionally aware, more in touch with your feelings than I; I tend to deal with things on the physical plane, and hold back, stepping behind a wall of emotional reserve. I stroke your arms encircling me tightly. I can almost feel the depth of your caring pouring over me, and can certainly hear it in your husky voice. I think I mean more to you than just a quick fling, if I can read you correctly. I know that you have come to mean more to me than that, certainly. I genuinely like you, and know that I care for you, wish you to enjoy our time together. We...fit. Similar enough for enjoyment, different enough for spice. I let myself lean back into you, let your strength take some of my weight. It's...easy to do that, to let you give me support, in the emotional as well as the physical sense. A week ago, I'd have said it was the rush of hormones talking; after spending so much time with you, I'm no longer certain. You...matter. Too much thinking, Pierson. Just relax and enjoy what he offers, and sort it all out later, when you can think clearly.}

Randy:            {I breathe a quiet sigh of relief when you relax back against me. For a minute, I was afraid too much of what I was feeling was all out in the open--subject to inspection. I don't want to inspect it right now. I don't want *you* to inspect it. You're skittish--moreso than me, in some ways--and I don't want you feeling like you have to take off because I've tightened a rope I'm not sure *I* want, yet. I know how right the last few days have felt, though--far, far better than the nearly four weeks that came before them. You're not just a good lay--you're becoming a friend. A good friend. A -- okay. Time to stop; I'm not ready to go there yet. I don't want to spoil what we have now, with wondering about what *might* happen. I kiss the small hollow just below and behind your ear, then just hold you, maybe a little tighter than a minute ago, but not ready to admit to why.}

Michael:          {I'm not certain how long we stand there, you holding me, me allowing myself to be held, both of us not saying anything, probably both afraid anything we said might make the other break and run. It's a long time, though, long enough for my flesh to warm completely beneath the bright yellow sun. I shift a little, and your arms slide away easily, allowing me to half-turn. You're not as good at hiding things as I am; your face is very expressive, more so than you realize, and what I see there warms me more than does the sun. I run my thumb over your mouth, and smile.} Later, Caro. {I murmur, then lean in and kiss you, hoping you understand that this is something that I don't really want to discuss now--maybe when we get back, but not now.}

Randy:            {The relief that washes over me is almost embarrassing, it's so strong. I *don't* want to talk about anything right now. If it ends up that we can't--stay together, then I don't want to find out right now. I need...at least this time. Just you, me, the sun and the sea. You're right--we can talk about...whatever...when we get back. I relax into your kiss, breaking it after a minute when I need to breathe. My voice still sounds hoarse, thicker than usual, but there's something in your eyes--something that makes my blood fizz warmer; makes me feel...okay. I smile, slowly, and nod.} Later. Later is good, darlin'. {I pause a minute, then grin, feeling stupidly glad that whatever just passed between us, did.} C'mon, let's go feed me before I'm forced to gnaw on you for sustenance. Not that this would be such a *bad* thing. {I wink at you.}

Michael:          Having your mouth on me is *never* a bad thing---trust me on that, Caro. {I slip an arm around your waist, and give you a little squeeze before releasing you and heading off downstairs...no, belowdecks...and into the galley to look for something to feed you.}

Randy:            {I laugh and head for the cabin to gather up my sweatshorts and a T-shirt, and the same for you, then head back into the galley. I must be comfortable with you, to stand there beside you, shifting to pull on clothes, and not caring. You raise one eyebrow when I pull the shorts on with no underwear, and I grin.} Hey--it seems pretty pointless to keep wearing it, when you just have to take it back off again. Think of it as easy access. {I shrug} I have no problems hanging free and loose. Feels pretty good, actually.

Michael:          Feels pretty good to me, too. {I slip on shorts and a tee shirt also, though I think I'd probably be just as comfortable going naked all weekend. Who's to see us? But I follow your lead, and pull on clothes; I want you to be comfortable. I give you a pat on the ass as I pass by you, on the way to the galley.} What would you like to eat?

Randy:            Ahh, just some fruit will be fine. {I sit down to tie my shoes, and to watch you for a moment. I guess I have a Michael-fetish. I grin at that thought, wondering how that would sound, then look up again.} If you want something else, that's cool. I don't want to eat too much, though--I have a surprise for us, for dinner tonight.

Michael:          A surprise, eh? Are you planning on something extravagant? Something to impress me? {I pull fruit out of the small fridge and the cupboards. I'm not that hungry; unlike you, I don't actually eat that much. But I could eat some fruit--I could use the juice. I have a feeling we're both going to be parched all weekend.}

Randy:            Nah, not like that. {I have the feeling that you're not overly impressed with impressive and extravagant, and that's not me anyway. I can't put on faces, just to impress someone--I learned that a long time ago. I take two bottles of water out of the cooler still sitting on the floor against the wall, and grab a deck chair from the closet as I walk past it. You follow behind me, fruit in hand. It doesn't take all that long to get the sails unfurled again, and to lift the anchor, and we're underway again. I settle onto the stool to steer, feeling more content than I think I have a right too--and not caring a damned bit.}

 

*****

 

Michael:          {The afternoon passes; I know we're heading south, as it gets progressively warmer. I can't tell where we're going, though you do try and explain the workings of the compass and maps to me. The sun and the heat remind me of Italy, and I tell you of the trips I've made there with mother and Nonna, and travels on my own, though I don't mention the partners I've taken there. I suspect you know I didn't go alone, though you don't ask. There are silences, too, and they're comfortable, easy, and neither of us feels the rush to fill them. I like that. You're easy to talk with, a very good conversationalist, but don't feel the need to fill every moment with idle chatter, as some do. You can be content with the quiet, and that pleases me, as I'm a quiet person generally. I take the wheel for awhile as you stretch out beside me, legs crossed at the ankles, and let the sun warm you, work out the kinks. I suspect you'll enjoy a backrub tonight, as you've worked hard getting us underway. I let my eyes slide from the ocean and sky to glance down at you, supremely comfortable-looking, and smile.} Tired, Caro?

Randy:            Not...tired. But I definitely needed this. Needed to recharge, I guess. {I lean back into a stretch, hoping I don't flip the chair over. God, it feels good--lazy, relaxing, just being here, under the sun--with you. I think about my original plans for this weekend, for sailing, to forget you...to get you out of my mind. And here you are, after all. Karma? Idle deviltry on the part of the fates? Not the hand of god--I know better than to believe in that. It was proved to me in unrelenting, horrific detail, how much *he* cares about my life.} I'd do this forever, if I could. Sail, I mean. I'd like to--someday--go around the world. Take a few months off from work, and just *go*.

Michael:          Could you actually do it? Would...{I cast about in my memory for a name} Crandall give you the time away?

Randy:            I don't know. It's just a dream; not one I've done a lot of checking into. I've only been head of my own 'cell' for a few years now; I'm still pretty much getting established--y'know? But what I'm thinking...{I smile, probably a little wistfully--it's been a dream of mine for years now,}...is maybe, a couple years down the road, taking some time for a sabbatical--I can do research from here, easily. Not the actual *lab* stuff, but the collecting of previous data, stuff like that. I don't know. If nothing else, I'll do it when I retire. {I give you a grin and take a long drink of water.} It's something to work towards.

Michael:          {I watch the long line of your throat, the movement it makes as you swallow. I like it.} Have you had the opportunity to travel much? I have, though it's been primarily for business, and not for pleasure...though Italy was more for pleasure, admittedly.

Randy:            No. {I shake my head roughly.} It's not...I don't fly. {My throat closes over that, and I swallow again, determined to shove that down, and look at you.} Makes it hard to travel much. I've done some of the US--but it was by car, from coast-to-coast, when I moved out here after I got my undergrad.

Michael:          You don't fly? {I simply can't imagine that--I've spent so much time in the air I sometimes feel I'm part bird. Evidently, it's something that bothers you a lot, judging by the suddenly dark look in your eye, the closed expression that steals over your face. Not something good. I'm certain if I picked at it, you'd tell me, but I've no desire to dredge up bad memories, and so leave it be.} I've jumped about the States here and there...I'll be going to Seattle next month for a lookabout to see if I want to open a branch office there. I could send Erich, as that's his job, but I wanted to see it for myself. I've heard it's lovely.

Randy:            It is. {I grin at you, grateful you're not going to press the point. I know I told you I lost my family, but not the details, and I'm not ready or willing to go there right now.} I sailed up that way...two years ago? I think it was in ninety-six. It's beautiful country there. {I look at you suspiciously, when what you said sinks in.} How long you gonna be gone for?

Michael:          Three days. Would you care to come along? I wouldn't mind the company, honestly. You're a very entertaining lad. {I grin at you, knowing you hate to be called a *lad*.}

Randy:            {I blink at you in astonishment for a minute, then narrow my eyes. 'Lad' again, eh? I shake my head regretfully--the only way you could get there that fast would be if you flew, and no way in hell--no matter how much I like you. I never got on an airplane even for Brandon, and we were together for almost five years--lovers, in love, the whole shebang.} Thanks--for the invite. I have this job, though, see... {I smile at you.} Seriously, I appreciate the offer, but I don't think I can get away--I've got time scheduled off over the fourth of July, and Crandall's patience isn't great. I'll give you a helluva welcome home greeting though, guaranteed.

Michael:          {I'm disappointed--it would have been good to have you as company. I tend to forget that everyone's schedule isn't as flexible as my own, and it always surprises me a little, when plans don't work out. I hadn't planned on asking you--it had just popped out, before I could even think to edit it.} Promise it shall be a good welcome home, and I won't be so disappointed. {I smile at you.}

Randy:            {I shift and stand up, leaning into your personal space, my mouth finding yours quickly, easily. I lick your lips teasingly, then whisper against them.} Promise. Like nothing you've ever had before.

Michael:          Really? Given what you've already shown me, a promise like that could prove dangerous to my health. {I reach up and let my hand spread out over your chest, thumb rubbing lazily across your nipple, which rises hard beneath the soft cotton of your shirt.} It's getting late...shall we find a place for the night, and then you can give me a preview of your welcome-back techniques.

Randy:            Yeah... {Your breath in my mouth; mine in yours. God, that's erotic. I shift and wiggle against you, groaning when you thumb my other nipple to a hard peak as well.} Lemme... drop anchor... and we can stay here tonight. {I love how fast we respond to each other; sexually, I've never more attuned to someone. I wonder why, and give a mental shrug. Guess it is what it is.} And I'm doing dinner tonight, so you can hit the showers, if you want. There's plenty of water. {I step back reluctantly when you let go, my body fired up, ready to go. *God*, we heat up so fast, so intense. Incredible.}

Michael:          {I let my hand slide between your legs, gently rubbing at the heat I find there. I rise, leaning in to bite gently at your throat, loving the growl I feel rumble up from deep within your chest.} You do that...and I promise that I'll make you feel *so* good tonight....

Randy:            {I hiss an agreement, and rub myself shamelessly against your hand, my own creeping to your body, stroking through the thin shorts you're wearing. You feel good; thick and long, hardening even as I am. I arch my head back when you bite again, then growl, lowering to take your mouth, hot and hard, echoing the hunger rising in me.}

Michael:          {Your kisses are like a storm, wild, and fierce, and hard, almost punishing in their intensity. I can only open my mouth wider for you, let you wash over me, a torrent of passion. I swear you grow two more sets of hands; I know you touch me everywhere, callused hands hard on my flesh, squeezing, patting, kneading. I ride it out, until you tear your mouth away from mine, gasping for air as I do. There's something fierce and wild shimmering through your eyes, and god, I know I'm in for a wild time. I pull your hand from within my shorts, bring it up to kiss the palm, smiling at you.} We'll keep, Caro...first things first....get us settled, get us fed, and I swear it shall be worth the wait.

Randy:            {It takes a minute for me to collect myself, to get enough air back into my brain so that it can function again. You're right--as good as it could be here, grappling about on the deck, hot and sweaty, it'll be better after we've cleaned up, rested, and relaxed some. The fire between us is never far away, I've decided. A look, a touch, a word--sometimes a combination of those, sometimes one alone. I lean in and kiss you once more, very gently, then pull back to nod.} Help me tie down the sails for the night? {You don't refuse, and although you're not adept at it like I am, you learn quickly, and two hands make short the work that usually I have to do alone. We drop the anchor, then tidy the deck before heading down below decks. The sun is setting, and it's beautiful, watching it dip nearer the horizon, spreading pinks and golds over the blue of the water. I pull the hatch closed over us; in case a storm comes up in the night, no point in things getting wetter than they'd have to. I shoo you toward the head, and busy myself in the galley. I'm a pretty decent cook, and though what I planned isn't extravagant, I do want to cook you a nice dinner. I even bought a bottle of non-alcoholic sparkling cider to go with it. It doesn't take me long to get the chicken and rice stuffing in the oven, and prep the rest of it. I can set the table after I change. I put some soft, easy music on, and head back to strip my clothes off when I hear the shower shut off.}

Michael:          {Although I tend to take long, long showers, I don't now, not wanting to use up your reserves. So it's a quick wash, then out. I emerge from the shower, smelling faintly of evergreen from the soap, and towel myself down. A robe is hanging on the back of the door, and I shrug into it. Your scent is in the folds of the material, and it's like being hugged by you. I roll my eyes at that terribly sentimental thought; it's so unlike me--that's more Sarah's province than mine. I brush my teeth, then do a quick shave; I tend to bristle by this time of the evening. By the time I exit the bath--no, the head--I can smell something wonderful coming from the galley. You pop into the bedroom as I hear my belly growl, and I grin ruefully.} Smells wonderful. So you *can* cook, eh?

Randy:            {I pause to admire you in my robe, then pull out a pair of comfortable sweats and a T-shirt, snickering all the while.} I told you--just because all I've done is take you to taco shacks and feed you sandwiches doesn't mean I was lying. {I stop at the doorway and wink at you.} I can even do pie crust--but don't bother telling anyone, 'cause I'll deny it with my last breath.

Michael:          {I snap at you with the towel, but you laugh, dodging easily, and slam the door. For a snarky moment, I wish I *had* used up all the water, but then my attention is caught once more by the smell coming from the galley, and I follow my nose there. Chicken, evidently, and not done yet. I grab a handful of grapes and content myself with their sweetness. As I hear your shower shut off, I busy myself with setting the table. I think you're certain I don't know how to do anything, that Miles waits upon me hand and foot, rendering me helpless. Not necessarily true--wealth does have its benefits, such as servants and cooks, but I can take care of myself quite well. I grin up at you as you appear in loose sweatpants that dip below your navel, toweling off your hair vigorously. Such a lovely sight, one I never tire of.}

Randy:            You'll make someone a good wife someday, darlin'. {I grin at you, ignoring the rude gesture you send my way, and bend to check the chicken. God, the shower felt good. I wish it was big enough for both of us--we could probably both fit in there, but I doubt we'd be able to turn around, or move. Ah, well. That's what the ocean's for. I pull the cut veggies out of the fridge, and rig up my makeshift steamer, then reach above the sink to pull down my two nice glasses, for the cider.} Do you want rolls with dinner? It's no problem to pop them in the oven real quick.

Michael:          {Perched on the bench seat at the table, I watch you move around, totally at ease with yourself and your surroundings. I raise one shoulder in a shrug, then realize you can't see me with your back to me.} Certainly. I'm starved. Any dessert on the menu?

Randy:            {I laugh. I can't help it. You've got an innocent expression on your face when I turn around, but I'm not fooled. I've never met anyone *less* innocent than you, I don't believe.} Now there's a loaded question, darlin'. Whatcha think you'd like? I can tell you if it's available.

Michael:          {I crook my finger at you, and though you look dubious, you approach, slowly, as though you were nearing a wild animal. Not too far off the mark, actually. When you're close enough for me to reach, I wrap my fingers around your hips and draw you closer. That inch of skin beneath your navel and your sweats is driving me crazy, and I have to taste it. You shudder as I drag my tongue over your flesh, then again as I suck at your navel. A quick nibble, and another lick to your moist skin, and I pull back, smiling up at you.} Skin. Freshly washed, flavored with musk, tangy with your seed. That's what I want for dessert.

Randy:            That's-- {I have to stop for a second to clear my throat; the hoarse croak that came out to start with startled me.} Um. That's do-able. Jesus Christ, Michael. {I can still feel your tongue stroking over me, dipping into my navel, a very suggestive little flick there. I slip my hand up under the robe to touch your thigh, stroking very slowly, not touching anywhere else, and lean forward to touch my mouth to your ear. I don't bother to hide the huskiness in my voice this time, or try to clear it away. I want you to hear it.} Gettin' hard for me, darlin'?

Michael: Oh, I am. {I started getting hard the moment you stepped through the doorway, the moment I wanted to lick that little bit of skin. But not now; I can put it on hold, and besides, pleasures deferred are often sweeter for the wait. It's a lesson I know well, but am often too impatient to heed. I nibble at that little bit of skin that drew me initially, your belly shivering slightly, before looking up at you. Your eyes are dark, and your chest rises and falls a bit faster at the touch of my teeth on your flesh, my hands caressing your hips. I could pull you down to me, could direct your mouth to my groin, and you'd settle in to suck me hungrily, make me come, but decide for once, to defer pleasure. You've planned a nice meal for us, and the least that I can do is to enjoy the fruits of your labors. I press one more kiss to your belly, then pull back.} Let's wait a bit, shall we? I'm not as young as I once was, you know.

Randy:            {I give a shaky laugh and pull back a little; not quite out of your personal space, but far enough that I can catch my breath again. What *is* it, between us? Chemistry...yes. Fire to gasoline? Definitely. I shake my head and gulp in a couple lungfuls of air to clear my head.} You're not as old as you might think, either. Damn, man. {I reach down and give you a gentle, playful squeeze through the robe, then pull back.} Yeah, let's wait. I think--as good as it is, it'll be better, for that.

Pierson 38:    {You give my face a light caress and pat, then move back, returning to your dinner preparations. Once you're out of my personal space, I can breathe easier. You work on dinner, and we chat, the flame in my belly dying down a little, but never disappearing. It never seems to disappear completely...even at work, I have the odd, random thought of you. That realization makes me give a mental groan, and I wonder if I'm skating perilously close to obsession. I don't want that, and I'm sure you don't, either. But something...something is definitely there, growing stronger day by day. I wonder if I should be apprehensive of it, of the strength it has over me, but dismiss the thought; I'm happier than I've been for years, and something that makes me feel this good cannot be wrong.}

Randy:            {It's comfortable, this ease we have between us. Even with sexual tension, it just adds to how much I enjoy being with you. I wonder again, what all events conspired together that day, to send us into the park at the same time--and I'm glad, for whatever they were. I hand you the bottle of chilled cider to pour for us, then set the veggies, with a light dusting of fresh-grated parmesan cheese, onto the table. Fresh bread, butter spread, then the pan with the chicken and rice. I change the CD player; out of deference to your tastes, I put on a couple of soft-rock CDs, and the one bluesy-jazzy thing that I have, then grin.} Ready to eat, darlin'? I dunno about you, but I'm starved.

 

Michael: {It does smell lovely. I raise my glass of sparkling cider to you in a quick toast, then set to with a will. It's as good to the tastebuds as it is to the nose. Talk drifts in one direction, then another, like the waves flowing beneath us. Sometimes it's about work, sometimes about the new computer program you'd mentioned a couple of days ago, sometimes its about music, or the telly, or the latest book you've read--I've never seen anyone read with your speed. But whatever the topic, you're always intensely passionate about it, giving it your all. It's a pleasure to listen to you, to talk with you; your voice is deep and musical, and you talk with your hands once you warm to a topic. I finish eating sooner than you do, and lean back against the booth back to watch you.}

Randy:            {I stop after one helping of everything, though I have seconds of the veggies. I could eat more--I can always eat, and sailing makes me hungry. But it'll be more fun to not be stuffed now, and just have a snack later. You've been watching me, and I find that I like that I can put that warm glow in your eyes. I watch you back, not making any effort to hide that I'm doing it. It was an interesting dinner conversation; we bounced topics from school, to politics, to work, and everything in between. You're fun to talk to. Well-read, well-traveled, knowledgeable on a lot of things. I pour us both a third glass of cider and grin.} It'd be nice to have a fireplace to sit in front of right now...and they do have them, on the bigger boats. I've seen 'em. But I couldn't handle anything much bigger by myself, and it wasn't a necessity. {I eye you again, head to toe, wondering if I've memorized you yet.}

Michael:          {The moment stretches, elongates, evolves, growing warmer, deeper. I turn the goblet in my fingers, only seeing the movement of the amber fluid out of the corner of my eye; you absorb all my attention, now. I feel the slow grin spread across my face, feel the flame of desire curl deeply within my belly.} I'm ready for dessert. Come here.

Randy:            {I stay where I am for another minute, watching your grin growing; watching the slow flush up your neck. The fire that's bubbling in my veins never went away, it merely cooled a bit, allowing me to breathe. I stretch my foot out and caress your calf, then slip from my seat to stand next to you, leaning over you slightly. I lower my voice, one hand reaching out to touch your knee, just touching you.} Gonna get hard for me again, darlin'?

Michael: {I can smell you, warm and musky, and my belly contracts with hunger of an entirely different kind. I spread my legs a little, and the movement rubs the terry against my skin, making me twitch with the sensation.} Touch me. Touch me and see....

Randy:            {I bury my face in your neck, breathing in your scent, shuddering. My hand shifts, slowly, one finger tracing over to rub lightly at your sacs, tight, swollen, riding high against your body. A nudge beneath them, to tease the sensitive skin of your perineum, then I'm cupping your balls, and stroking upward, closing my hand around your cock, groaning into your ear when you shudder.} Need to touch you, Michael... it's like a drug... Feel good, darlin'? {I lick over your ear, following the curve with my tongue, feeling your shivers running into mine, combining. Joined, just by a touch.}

Michael:          God, yes. Feels...so...{My breath catches as your thumb slips over the head, peeking out from the foreskin, already moist.}....so damn good....{If I could, I'd lie back on the bench seat and open my legs for you, but the space is too cramped. I turn my face into your throat, and suck at the first flesh I find; your wet hair tickles my nose. I run the backs of my fingers down the center of your chest, down the hard flat belly, until I get to that sweet navel that started this, and trace around it with my fingertips.} It...takes so little to make me want you...

Randy:            I know... {Almost a whisper; I'm afraid to speak any louder, afraid to break this.} I'm not sure...if I should be afraid...or on my knees, in thanks... {Your finger dips into my bellybutton, then out again, then back, beginning a very erotic, very familiar rhythm. I moan softly, my hand sliding up and down your cock faster, pausing to slip my thumb across the crown every so often, smearing the juices there. The tiny slit in the center oozes more for me when I bite your ear very gently, tugging on the lobe, and I laugh breathlessly, probing at the small fissure with the tip of my finger.} Tell me... what you want...right now, Michael.

Michael:          {I bite your neck, making you jump, then lick over the reddened place, soothing it. Your hand is driving me to distraction, squeezing and stroking almost roughly; our passion has always made us hungry, made our touches quick and needy, without gentleness. It pleases me, it pleases you, so it is right, for us. I laugh against your throat, a husky sound, full of desire.} I want...I want to taste you...I want you with your legs over my shoulders, begging me to fuck you...I want you on your belly thrashing beneath me...I want to lick you, to bite you...I want to drown in you....

Randy:            All of it. All that you want... I do too...{God, the images filling my mind right now--provocative, erotic, sexy. Your words are like a challenge, almost, and I can't stop the drop to my knees. Somewhere in the back of my brain I know there's something I'm supposed to be doing, but it's impossible to think around you, like this. I reach for the tie, and unknot it, spreading the robe open, exposing you. Ohmygod. Thick, swollen, totally erect. The head of your cock has popped out from the foreskin, wet and red, the slit seeping even now. I lean forward and lick once, tasting you, feeling your groan echo all through me.} Michael... Jesus. Let me... please. Lemme suck you...

Michael:          {I spread my legs as widely as I can, confined in the small space. It occurs to me that this could be infinitely more comfortable someplace else--*anyplace* else, actually, but I want you, and I'm too impatient to wait. I reach down and wrap my fingers about yours, which are still moving on my cock, and our hands move on me together, as your tongue slides over the head, tasting my juices, probing into the little slit, slipping down into the foreskin. I bite my lower lip, then give in to the moan that rises from deep within me; it comes out, low and needy.} Yes, suck me...but don't make me come...I want to come inside you....

Randy:            Fuck...yeah...{I'm torn; not sure which I want more--to drink you, or feel your juice dripping out of me, after you've filled me. Each one has its own very fine points. I could make you come, sucking you. I want to. But I want to feel what you said--on my back, my legs over your shoulders... It's a very powerful image, and I shift my head, nipping hard at the skin on the inside of your thigh, hoping you feel some of what I do right now. A hunger that's building so intense, so strong, it's all-consuming. I bite again, then lap at the marks before stroking my tongue up and down your length, pushing between our fingers, playing with you. Your hips are starting an uneven rhythm, and I can hear you panting above me, soft words filling the air around us; some I don't recognize; some would make a sailor blush, they're so crude. The whole effect drives me, and I push your hand away impatiently, dropping mine to cradle your sacs before fitting my mouth over your swollen crown, and taking my first long suck at you.}

Michael:          {At the feel of your hot wet mouth sliding down over me, at the heavenly sensation of suction, I thrash helplessly at sensory overload, and bang my elbow into the table. Dishes and silverware clatter and tinkle together, and I swear fiercely at the pain that arcs down my arm, but then you swallow me, throat working around me, and the numb sensation fades away, unable to compete with the sheer pleasure of your mouth upon me. Words of praise, gratitude, and sheer enjoyment tumble from me, a patois of English, Italian, and French that makes absolutely no sense. I don't care...my cock, and your mouth sucking it is the center of my world. I buck up, seeking to drive deeply, to bury myself entirely within you, but your hands are strong on me, and I can't move as I want.}

Randy:            {I pull off you with a loud, wet sucking noise; it sounds obscenely erotic, and sends a fresh shiver through me. When I look up at you, your eyes are *hot*. Dark as gun-metal, flecked with silver, shining with heat. I lick my lips and give you a feral smile; even to me it feels hungry.} Wanna fuck my throat, don't you? Wanna shove your dick down my throat 'til I feel it in my gut. {I tease my tongue around the tip of your cock, probing into the small slit, sucking at it gently. My hands hold you tight; your hips are even now trying to push up, to thrust.} Tell me, Michael--before you fuck my ass, is that what you wanna do?

Michael:          {I swear I'll kill you for teasing me like this. I can't find relief from the fire burning within me, and I'll agree to anything to quench it.} Yes. On. Your. Knees.

Randy:            {I groan low, a thick, almost painful sound, and shift backward, out of the tight space we were in. Back against the couch. My own cock is highlighted, pressing hard against my sweats, a large damp spot where I've leaked into the material. You're there, in front of me, almost before I'm settled, teasing your dick across my lips, over my face. I close my eyes; I can smell you, your arousal, and its incredible, adding to my own.} Do it, Michael... fuck me. Give it to me hard... Ram it down my throat, lover.

Michael:          {I slip my thumb inside your mouth, over your lower lip, and press until you open for me. Wide, wider. Sliding back my foreskin, I slide the slick head over your lower lip, and your tongue flicks out to taste me. I pull back, tip your head back a little.} Stick out your tongue. {When you comply, I rub the head against the front of your tongue, hissing at the rough sensation. A drop of precome pearls up, lands on your tongue, and you shiver, swallowing reflexively. Enough. I want to feel your mouth, hot and wet, surrounding me. My hands curve around your face, fingers going into your cool damp hair, and my cock slides inside you, into your heat.}

Randy:            {Yes...oh, yes... It's like...pleasure, so intense, I can't field it all. You're in control, you're in charge of this. I pushed you here, but now that we are, you're doing it. You hold my head a little tighter, push me to take you a little deeper. I breathe in through my nose and out again, feeling you slide down my throat, until my nose is buried in the thick curls of your pubes. I love this. I love doing this, and better still, doing it for you. I flick my tongue hard over your head, then rub it slowly, roughly against the vein throbbing harshly on the underside. Gently, gently, I add teeth, scoring you lightly when you withdraw, hearing your sharp hiss of breath at the slight bite of pain. You grip my head a little tighter, angling it back, and thrust in harder.}

Michael:          {It's damn perfect. You offer, I take; you want my cock fucking your mouth, I want to do it. It's a fine edge I'm running along here; it feels so good that I could easily tumble into orgasm. In, in, until your nose brushes my belly, then out again, watching myself emerge, wet and reddened. There's no resistance; you're so good at this it's unbelievable.} Take me...take everything I offer....

Randy:            {I shift a little impatiently, and slide my fingers under your balls, and along the crease between your cheeks. You're hot and sweaty; hell, I can feel droplets sliding down my back as I'm doing this. I gather the moisture along my fingertips, then rim your hole lightly with it, teasing you, playing with you. You give a strangled gasp and push your hips forward, then back again. My cock is burning, it's so hard, and I want to come so bad... want to come now, want to come with your cock inside me... Fuck, I don't know what I want any more. I think I'm lost in this haze of need and lust.}

Michael:          {I pull out of your mouth and wrap my fingers tightly about myself, stopping the orgasm that almost boils out of me. Panting, I look down at you, flushed, eyes heavy and slumberous with desire, sweat trickling down your chest, mouth swollen and wet. My eyes trail further down; your nipples are hard, and your cock strains against the soft, worn material of your sweats, a dark wet patch giving evidence to your readiness to come.} You could come just like that, without being touched, couldn't you? But you want to be touched, don't you, Caro? You want my hands on you, my mouth on you, my cock inside you....

Randy:            I could...yeah. {My voice is thick, hot, almost like I feel, like I'm drowning in honey. I arch a little toward you, drawn by the lust I see in your eyes, hear in your voice. You want me. You want to see me come, hear me cry your name. I reach up and stroke two fingers over your cock; it's dripping, both from precome, and my spit. Beautiful, all wet and swollen like it is. All for me. That thought makes me almost dizzy for a minute, then I'm pushing to my feet, pulling you closer against me, rubbing myself against you.} Wanna feel you everywhere, Michael. I can scream here, darlin'--no one to hear us. {I move my mouth to your ear; you're so sensitive along your neck and ears, it's a total erogenous zone for you. My voice drops to a low, whispery growl.} Make me scream your name, Michael.

Michael:          {I'm lost, helpless against your driving desire. My hand drops to the waistband of your sweats, knotting into a fist, and I begin to back toward the bedroom, pulling you by the soft material. My eyes never leave your face, and I'm surprised you don't spontaneously combust.} I'll have you now...and I swear you'll scream for me....

Randy:            {I'm going to explode in a minute, if I don't get your body on me, covering me.} Have me, darlin'... on my back, my legs over your shoulders... D'you know what that image does to me, Michael? {You've stopped us just inside the cabin, and I lean back against the door to strip my sweats off. Your eyes are so hot; molten metal, dripping heat down me. I should burst into flame, just from your looks. I reach down and give my cock one long stroke, arching into it, rubbing my finger over the crown to gather the fluids there. When I suck my finger into my mouth you let loose with a growl that stands the hairs up on my arms, and haul me down onto the bed beneath you.}

Michael:          {The bed bounces as I practically throw you down onto it and cover you with my body, pinning you down by twining my legs around yours, wrapping my fingers around your wrists. No escape. But the way your eyes flash, then darken, pupils widening until there's only a thin ring of green around them, the way your breathing quickens, tells me escape is the furthest thing from your mind. Your cock digs into my belly, hard and hot and wet. Before the bed has even stopped moving, I've got my mouth on your neck, biting sharply, then sucking, hard, feeling the skin heat as blood blooms to the surface in a love bite. A sharp cry echoes in the room, and you thrash and buck beneath me, but can't throw me off; my grip is too good.} You want me...you know you do...

Randy:            {I do, god yes, haven't ever wanted anything in my life as bad as this. We're both sexually sophisticated enough to know though, that struggling adds spice to things. You bite again, and I groan when the heat rises to the surface of the bite, setting my skin to throbbing and tingling. I push against you hard, but you've got a good grip on me; you're not going to let go easily. Fine. I shift, spreading my legs beneath you, crying out when you settle in, your cock rubbing restlessly against my pulsing hole, wringing hoarse groans and panted pleas from me. You're teasing me, the moisture from you dripping against me, slipping down my crack to mingle with the sweat gathering there. Hot... so hot. I'm drowning in heat... and wouldn't have it any other way.} Do it, Michael... please, darlin'... need to feel you inside me... need it so bad...

Michael:          {I release your wrists, and your hands immediately go into my hair to pull my face up to yours to kiss. Hell, kiss is too mild a word...you devour me. My hands go to your nipples and pinch, rolling them between fingers and thumbs, and you arch into me, moaning into our kiss. God, that's good....I run my hands down your sides, and grasp your thighs, pulling them up around my ribs, and you rub them against me, your hips rocking seductively against mine.}

Randy:            God, darlin'... you're good...so good... I wanna feel you, Michael... inside me... {The words are hard to get out; my throat feels too thick to make it work, and each syllable is pushed out, a low, hoarse grunt, resounding with need and heat. I think you have a thousand hands right now, and each one is on a different part of me, touching, stroking, squeezing. You bite my neck, I bite yours. One for one, until I'm a mass of stinging, pulsing sensation, being driven higher and higher. I reach to cup your ass, to pull you closer to me, and groan when you shift, backing away a little, rising full to your knees.}

Michael:          How much do you want me? How much do you need me? {I reach down and slide my hands beneath your knees, pushing up and out, angling your ass for me. God, so beautiful, so hot, so...mine. In this moment, you're mine, entirely. No one who has gone before me matters; only this moment of surrender, of driving desire counts. It is everything I need. I slip two fingers into my mouth, wetting them, and place them against your opening, pushing, but not breaching you.} Tell me who you want...tell me who gives you what you need....

Randy:            {I'm looking at the world through a haze of lust; it colors it strangely--dark, and hot; your face gleams with sweat, and an odd light shines in your eyes. They seem sharper, somehow, watching me for things I'm not willing to give up yet. My chest tightens, my breath catching there, unwilling to leave. So close...you're touching me, holding yourself, your fingers, poised against me. Not inside, and no matter how much flexing I do, you don't penetrate yet. I hear the soft moan echo around us, but can't connect that it's me making it.} You, Michael... god, darlin', it's *you*... need you to fill me...fill me full, fuck me... You're the one...gives me what I need... {What a strange feeling rushing through me, stinging me like so many bees. Painful, but not; creating a largesse of warmth beyond sexual heat in its wake. God...} Now, Michael... please...

Michael:          {A quick push and twist, and my fingers are inside, and you arch high against me, voice rising in a wordless cry. Yes. Loud and long, hoarse and husky, and I like it. My long fingers reach deeply within you, and I move them slowly, fucking you, seeking that little bump I know will wrest another yell from you.} Let me hear you, Caro...let me hear you as you promised...I want to know I'm making you feel good...

Randy:            Ahh...darlin'... *please*--! {My voice raises on the last note, an odd, shrill shout as you rub over and over the small, swollen gland inside me. My cock jerks, hard, and I reach down to grab myself, not ready to spend yet, wanting to come with you deep inside me. Again, harder this time, your fingers moving relentlessly inside me; now a third added, pulling another shout from me as you bury yourself in me. I pinch my nipples roughly, the extra stimulation lending to my need to vocalize. I realize abruptly how fucking *great* this is, to be able to moan and yell and groan, and not have to worry about who might be hearing.} Do me... want your cock, not your fingers... c'mon, darlin'... shove it in... you *know* what I want, Michael.·

Michael:          Yes...{I pull my fingers from you and spread you open again, fingers wrapping around your ankles, pushing your legs up. No more preliminaries; we both want it too much. I push into you, hard and ruthless, past the loosened ring of muscle, then the long, sweet slide into your body, until my belly lies against your ass.}

Randy:            {I have to squeeze my cock again, harder than before, shaking with the effort it takes not to come. God, I want it so bad. My body aches, feels almost fevered, I want you so badly. I hiss, reaching up with my free hand to tangle my fingers through your short hair, tugging you roughly down to kiss me. Your mouth is hot, so hot, and you taste good--like sex, and toothpaste and *you*. You wrench away from me after a minute, both of us panting, our bodies straining against one another, and pull out, only to slam back into me, forcing a startled shout from me at the sensations knifing through me.}

Michael:          {I've got you folded almost in half, legs over my shoulders, just as I promised you I would. My knees slip on the sheets, then I get my balance, and begin a rough, hard thrusting into you. I can feel your cock, wet and slick, caught between us, rubbing against my belly. God, it's good. I shake sweat from my eyes, and slam into you, harder and faster.}

Randy:            {*Yessss!* It's all I can think; my brain is paralyzed now; my body in overload. I push up, meeting each thrust as it comes, reveling in the sweaty, sticky tangle we've become. Over and over again; your cock pressing into me, opening me with each rough thrust, the sound of our grunts and growls, moan and whimpers rising around us. Oh, god, this is good. So good. Better than I've ever had. I reach between us to wrap my hand around my cock, jerking myself roughly to your rhythm, feeling another shout gathering inside of me as my orgasm starts building.}

 

Michael:          {You like it rough, and I'm glad you do--I don't think I could stop the headlong rush into orgasm. And god, it feels so good to break free, to loosen all constraints and revel in the desire, the need, the heat that we create between the two of us. I shift you again, readjusting my grip on you, and know when I hit the sweet spot within you when you let go a deep, ear-splitting yell. Now that you have no fear of disturbing anyone, you're incredibly noisy, and I like it, like hearing your response to me. It is as if it's directly wired into my own pleasure; the more vocal you are, the better I like it, and the more deeply the pleasure burns through me. I grin down ferally at you, lost in sensation, the very picture of wantonness, and your eyes open, more black than green, depthless, bottomless. In that moment, that single, endless, forever moment, I'm caught, captured, and I know that no matter what may happen in the future, I'm yours, forever. My coming roars over me, fiery, sweeping all thought away in a blinding rush of pleasure.}

Randy:            {I shout again; not sure if it's a word--your name?--or just a wordless, mindless yell, to reflect the pleasure spilling over me, sinking into me. I feel heavy, like I'm going to drop through the bottom of the boat; I feel light, like I could lift up and away. I open my eyes for a moment when you slam into me, holding there, and your eyes... there's a light there that seems to make your eyes glow. I can feel a warmth separate from the heat of orgasm slide through me, and I groan, reaching up with one hand to hold you tight, to pull you close.} Michael... {I'm hungry for things I don't even want to recognize right now, but they're things I see in your eyes. I tug your head down to kiss you, but instead of the hungry urgency of just a moment ago, and in spite of the fact that my body is still throbbing with desire and my orgasm, I lick at your lips before pressing your mouth open slowly. Slowly... I want to devour you in bits, absorb you into me... slowly.}

Michael:          {My heart thunders within the cage of my ribs, and I can't seem to catch a deep breath as your mouth moves slowly over mine. I swear I can feel each blood cell within me tearing through my body in mad exhilaration. You breathe in my breath, nibble on my lower lip, suck lightly on my tongue, until I'm dizzy and unable to form a coherent thought. Jackknifed beneath me, you can't be comfortable, and between breath-stealing kisses, I work first one leg down, then the other. You lock both around my waist immediately, and I slide my arms about you, holding you close. I can feel your sticky, viscous seed between us, the slip of your softening cock against my belly, can feel your heart beating against my chest in a matching, slowing rhythm with my own. Locked together, rocked gently by the waves, your mouth soft and giving beneath my own...I don't think I've ever felt more...complete.}

Randy:            {Oh, this is good...so good. The sex between us is fantastic, but I want...I think I want... I want this to be more than *just* sex. Your weight is pressing me down, and I wiggle a little, shifting to hold you more comfortably. You're heavy, but not unbearably so. I love it--just as I told you earlier today, I love the heavy feel of a man's body holding me down, pressing against me. Your mouth is a bit of heaven itself--I'm more than willing to admit I'm addicted to it. I groan softly, and hear an answering rumble from you, then tilt my head back just a little, deepening our kiss. Easy, soft, like the waves outside rocking us, the ones moving inside me feel like they're taking me over. I slide my hands up your back, stroking you, touching you, fingers splayed to feel as much of your lean, muscular back as I can. Stroking in time to our tongues playing together.}

Michael:          {It's silent, except for the slap of the water against the boat, the heavy sound of our breathing, the wet sound of mouth moving against mouth. I hate it when I soften and slip from you, and your arms tighten about me, as if you're afraid I'll slip away from you, also. Soft, contented sounds come from deep within your chest, matching the ones from mine. You release my mouth to breathe, and I tuck my forehead in against your throat, inhaling the heady scents of lovemaking: sweat, musk, seed, the smell of *you*, one that is imprinted upon me, committed to memory. I feel my mouth smile against your damp skin, tired and exhilarated, and spent. My hands stroke gently along ribs and flanks, moving downward to cup your ass in both hands, kneading. I can feel the slickness, the stickiness in the cleft, and know it is mine, my seed, that I had placed deep within you.}

Randy:            {Something...is different. Not a lot different, but there nonetheless. I shift us so we're on our sides, more able to reach, to touch. This isn't about sex, this time. This is about.... I swallow hard, knowing I'm not ready to go there yet; not *wanting* to go there yet. One day at a time. We're both touching, exploring very gently. Nothing meant to be arousing, and it isn't. It just feels good. Soft whispers back and forth; my breath, your moan; your sigh, my murmur of your name. Our stomachs are sticky from where I spilled, and I draw one finger through the hair on your belly, feeling how it's stiffened. You shiver once, and I smile against your neck, whispering your name. Your cock is soft, and a little sticky, and I trace one finger over it, and down around your sac before easing back to touch your ass, feathering my fingers all over it. It's incredible, to lie here like this, touching like this. You smell good. The tang of shampoo and shaving cream mixed with the scents of our loving, and the musk of sweat. I lick your neck, moving my lips and tongue over you, tasting. Memorizing.}

Michael:          {I let my head fall to the pillow, and a quiver slips along my skin as your tongue moves over my neck. It's not meant to be arousing, and isn't, but I still like the shivery feelings it gives me. I could lie like this forever, I think; we so seldom get a chance for the slow, soft touches, as our passion tends to flame out of control before we realize it. I let my fingers come up to stroke the soft, short hair at he back of your neck, running a finger lightly over the bumps of vertebrae. Such a proud neck, unbending, unyielding for anyone. Anyone, that is, but me. For me, you bend this neck, and willingly. You give of yourself, giving me bits I know no one else sees, and I'm privileged to be the recipient. I know how fortunate I am, and am grateful, but I want...more. I want you with me, want you living with me. I bite my tongue before the words tumble out, unsure if it is just the residual fallout from bloody great sex, or something truer, deeper. I rather think it the latter, but if I say anything now, you might interpret it the wrong way. I don't want to spoil what we have now by rushing into something too quickly...best to think of this later, when I'm not swamped by hormones and exhaustion. It will hold; I don't think either of us will be doing something so foolish as permanently going our own ways again. Later, then...it will hold until clearer heads prevail. I smile and snug up closely to you.}

Randy:            {I can feel myself relaxing, the longer our hands stroke and touch. Each touch seems to get softer--between both of us--until we're basically just holding each other, bodies touching lightly, chests rising and falling in rhythm. It's been a long day; it's been a longer month. We've been back together now for, what--three days? And yet, we've slipped into a familiarity that is, in some ways, scary. So many things I still don't know about you, and yet I feel like I've known you forever. It's an odd contraction. We have two more days out here, before we have to turn back, and rejoin civilization and real life. I plan to make the most of those two, at the very least--though I'm hoping that you'll want to keep...doing whatever we're doing, after we return. Somehow, I feel fairly confident that you will. You've snuggled close against me, burrowing against my chest, and I return that, throwing one leg over yours, sliding us as close as two people can get. Your breathing has already evened out; I'm not sure if you're fully asleep yet, but you're rapidly heading there. So am I. I yawn and brush a kiss across your forehead, thinking briefly of my mom doing that when I was a little kid.} G'night, Michael. {You mumble something back, but it's nothing more a soft exhalation with a little sound. I smile and settle closer to you.}

 

Randy:{The only times in my life I've ever managed to get up early without something like an air-raid siren going off to prompt it, are the times I'm sailing. There is *nothing* like the sun coming up, spreading it's red-gold glow over the water. I set coffee to brewing, and water to boil for your tea, then rinse off in the shower. I'm surprised we weren't stuck together, or stuck to the sheets. I don't know if I woke you up during the night to fuck again, or if I only imagined that I did. If it was a dream, it was incredible; if it was real, it was still incredible.

It won't take us long to reach the islands; we ought to be there by mid-day, even if we stop for a while. I've been thinking it might be nice to put into port for a little while, at one of the smaller towns on the coast; walk around for a bit, maybe get a bite to eat. I down the first cup of coffee black, then pour a second one to cool a bit while I dress, and nudge you awake. You're sleeping on your stomach, and it would take a stronger man than me to resist touching you; I do manage to limit myself to just a few kisses on your back, and one teasing caress to the cleft between your cheeks. I don't do any more than that, because I don't want to tease you--and as appealing as the idea of tumbling back into bed with you is, there are other things I want to do, too. I want to spend time with you, get to know you, learn what makes Michael Pierson who he is. And if we're fucking, I can't do that--not beyond a limited scope, anyway.

You shower while I fix us a quick, light breakfast, then you clean up while I go topside to lift anchor and raise the sails. It's just past sunrise, and the air is chilly up here; makes me glad for the sweatshirt I pulled on over my T-shirt. The look on your face when you come up, and get your first look at dawn on the water, would make it worth getting up this early.} G'morning, Michael. Welcome to one of the best parts of sailing.

Michael:{It's incredible.Beautiful.I'm sure Sarah could put it into better words, or Jaimie actually capture it on canvas, but neither are here, and my own observations must suffice.I slip my arm about you companionably; you're warm and solid against me.It feels good to be beside you, to be watching the sun rise over the water, watching the colors shift, watching the water catch the reflections.So peaceful.Nothing but the sound of wind and water, the creak and groan of the ship beneath us.I feel curiously settled, content, and I like it.I lean in to press a kiss against the side of your neck, soft and easy.}Good morning, Caro.And yes, it is lovely.

Randy:Shouldn't take us more than five, six hours at the most--if the winds hold--to get to the islands, Michael. I was thinkin' we could stop, put into port, at one of the smaller towns on the coast. Some of them have good restaurants, we could walk around for a bit... I got a craving for Mexican food. {I grin, then lean into you, breathing in your scent. You smell clean, and spicy, like aftershave. A good, masculine scent.}

Michael:{I laugh--I can't help it.}You always have a craving for Mexican food.Or any food, actually. {But it does sound good, truthfully.A bit of a walk to stretch our legs, a chance to get out without recognition would be wonderful.I like the idea of it.}I think that sounds wonderful.I need to walk; I get restless when I don't move about.{I would drive my parents and teachers mad if I were confined for too long.

Randy:{I raise an eyebrow.} Darlin', I'm from south Texas; of course I have a constant craving for Mexican food. The hotter, the better. {I picture you as a teenager, pacing around your house--stalking, probably more like. Grounded for some offense, not permitted to go outside, and brooding the entire time.} I'll bet you were a terror, as a kid, weren't you.  
_  
_Michael:{I rub my hand over my hair and grin, guiltily.}That I was.Always into everything.Always curious, and whilst that's a good trait, one can sometimes be just a bit too curious for one's own good, you know.There were times my parents despaired of my ever living long enough to reach adulthood, and there were a couple of times, I myself wondered if I'd ever make it.But I did, as you well see.Believe it or not, I've mellowed a bit--not nearly the tearaway I once was, though there are times....

Randy:What were some of your pranks? {I lean back, settling my weight fully onto my stool, and grin.} There's a part of me, Michael, that has trouble believing you've mellowed. I've seen you in action. {I wink at you, watching an answering smirk spread over your face.}

Michael:I went to school in what you would know as a private boys' school.They were quite strict, as you might guess, and their rules oftentimes stifling.My pranks were not much more than what one might expect--primarily aimed at other students.As I grew older, I often crept out at night to go exploring, and when I grew older yet, my creeping about at night had a more...physical cause.{I pause for a moment, remembering the exciting, illicit couplings with other students, with girls from other schools--how fresh and wonderful it had seemed, when that sort of thing had been new.Youth.}Pranks such as you're thinking of didn't truly begin until university...one of the most memorable involved a horse dressed in a maid's outfit, and the headmaster's office....

Randy:{I raise an eyebrow at you, laughing as I try to picture that.} And to think that I thought some of my college classmates were wild. I don't think I ever heard of anyone pulling a stunt like that. {I correct our course and relax back, enjoying the scent of salt water around us, and the screeching of the gulls overhead. College is something I haven't thought about in a long time--at least not from the perspective of being there.} What'd you major in? Which university did you go to--one in England?

Michael:Ah, it was a whole lifetime ago.I went to Oxford, as did my father, and his father, and god knows how many Piersons before them.Tradition, and all that, you know.We are not nearly as free to chose as you are here--what is expected of us governs most of our actions, and for me, no less.I went into business studies to prepare for the place I now occupy.Simon followed, and Jaimie and the others chose as they would.{I shrug, and smile.}It has not been a bad life, I think.

Randy:Did you ever want to do anything different? Or is that pretty much a pointless question? {I wonder how life would have been different for you, if you'd followed a different path. What you describe--doing things as tradition decreed, is nearly an alien concept for me. Anyone I've ever known did what they wanted, because they wanted to--well, to certain extents, anyway. I wonder how differently my life would have been, if you hadn't followed that path--strange the way small things could affect such larger areas. No Michael Pierson to expand into California would have meant no company for me to get a job with; working somewhere else, would I have met you? Or made the choices I had, in the last eight years--? I shake my head once to clear it, snorting lightly. Talk about a random trip on a tangent.}

Michael:There were no options; as the eldest son, I did as was expected.I excelled.Academics, sports, achievements.I think...I think that in retrospect, some of the things I did in my personal life--which was unbridled by anyone's standards--were a form of rebellion against such a strict public life.I did everything expected of me, and everything unexpected, at the same time.{If I were to close my eyes, I could replay some of the horrid rows my father and I engaged in; he had sought to control what I did within the personal sphere of my life, and that I would have none of--the more he pushed for "normalcy" the harder I pushed back with what he saw as perversion.That I had never truly been embroiled in scandal was more a matter of fortune--both in luck and in money--I would probably never know just how many times he had saved my reputation when I was younger.Not a pretty picture, and not one I'm proud of, but far in the past, now, and no changing it.}Believe me, Caro...when I say I've settled, it's the truth.

Randy:{There's something in your eyes... I'm not sure what emotion I'd give name to, but it's there, and it seems to be saying to back down a little bit. We all have ghosts, concerning our families, and there's no need to stir those ghosts up here. I nod, leaning back against you.} I believe you, darlin'.{I tip my head back so I can see your face, and further above it, the brilliant blue of the sky.}  
_  
_Michael:{You lean against me, heavy, warm, substantial, filling my arms.I can see you let go this line of inquiry, and I'm glad; there is only so much of myself I can share at any one time.Too many things past I'd rather not remember today--tomorrow--the next day.You're perceptive, and I'm glad; Nicole was not always as such.I slip a hand beneath your sweatshirt and let it lie against your warm skin.Nothing sexual, just connection with you.I like it; I like you.}So what about young Dr. Taylor?

Randy:'Young'? There you go again, man. {I slide my hand up to rest on yours, my fingers twining easily, but not tightly. Just completing the connection.} Whatcha wanna know, Michael?  
_  
_Michael:Eight years of seniority allows me to call you young.{I can't help the tease; it truly doesn't matter to me, but I like the reaction I get from you.}How did you come to work for the office?What made you seek out California?You're from...Texas, am I correct?I wondered why you happened to choose one place over the other.Idle curiosity.

Randy:So, this means I can call you old, eh? {I elbow you gently, thinking about how to respond to your questions, filtering through what I can share now, and what needs to wait for some other time.} Definitely Texas, darlin'...{I let my drawl become accented, deepening it.} Corpus Christi, right on the gulf coast. Two and a half years in Massachusetts taught me that I didn't want to spend the rest of my life in a cold-weather climate, and I didn't want to go back to Texas. Too manymemories. So, California won, kinda by default, 'cause I wanted somewhere I could sail.

Michael:{Fair enough.If there are some things I cannot share now, I'll allow you yours as graciously.I know a bit of you; I'm not above investigating the files of people in my employ, but that information tends to be sketchy, at best.I know your family is gone, and I suspect that might be why you chose California.I give a mental shrug.If you wish to tell me, you'll tell me when you are ready, as I will tell you of some of the things in my past when I feel comfortable.Some things, I know, I can never tell, regardless.}Well, I am fortunate that you chose California--fortunate in both business and private life.Otherwise, I'd never have met you, never have been invited to share this vacation with you.And that would have been a true shame, Caro.

Randy:For both of us, Michael. {I make myself relax again; your hands are resting on my shoulders, rubbing gently.} Anyway, I like California--I did my doctoral work here; hell, I did all but my undergrad stuff here. And as for how I ended up with your company, well, they made me the best offer. {I tip my head back and let my eyes laugh at you.} Stanford has a program that helps new grads get in contact with potential employers; they help you do the resumes and portfolios, things like that. It's very helpful if you're young, like I was--job-hunting is one thing; career searching is something else. Anyway, I'm not sure what the deal was, but I think my advisor got a little over-zealous. She sent my portfolio out to several companies before I even was aware that the program existed, and Dr. Harold Baines, the head of R&amp;D at the time, contacted me himself--from what I've seen, that's not standard operating procedure.

Usually one of the cell heads does the initial contacting, sets up an interview, that sort of you don't generally meet the R and D head until an offer has been made, that sort of thing. At least, that was how Proctor and Gamble, and a couple of smaller companies did it. {I shrug.} In any case, Pierson Pharmaceuticals made me a very generous offer, and had the additional incentive of extra potential for moving up--y'all seem to be expanding a lot more, for whatever reason. I got my own cell just over two years ago, which I guess is pretty unheard of in most research companies.

Michael:It is nothing you've not earned, though hard work and sheer talent.Given your drive, the clever brain that always is at work, I suspect you will rise to the levels you wish.You should be proud of your accomplishments.I've never cared for false modesty.But please---don't ask me to understand a single thing you're working on.Whilst I can understand in the abstract, in the specific--it's completely beyond me.Just assure me once in awhile you're not plotting to take over the world, and I'll be satisfied.{I laugh and give you a little squeeze.}

Randy:{Your laugh is infectious, and I swivel on the stool to wrap you in a tight hug, wanting to feel you, to feel the vibrations as you laugh against me.} No plans to take over the world, darlin'. Not even the world of medicine. Now...taking over *you*... that might be something different. {I kiss your neck, then lean back to grin at you.} Wanna be taken, Mr. CEO? {I waggle my eyebrows at you.}

Michael:{Your expression is so comically lustful, I can only laugh.}I've been assured that I am very proficient at mergers.

Randy:{I snort, coughing a little from laughing.} Believe me, Michael--you're *very* proficient at mergers. {I lean forward and kiss you quickly, just for the hell of it, because I can.} Any time you wanna merge, baby, you let me know. {I leer again, then laugh when you choke this time, before turning back to the control board.} We'll be at Morros Bay in another hour or two--wanna put to shore there, and hang out in town for a couple of hours? I've stopped there once; they have a place called Cantina Pica that has incredible chips and salsa, and good non-alcoholic margaritas.

Michael:{I give you a squeeze, and brush a kiss across the top of your head.}Sounds like a very good plan to me.Eat, stretch our legs.You can teach me some Spanish, and when we return, perhaps I can teach you some Italian, yes?

Randy:I think you're overestimating my grasp of Spanish, but I'll teach you what I know, darlin'. And I would love to learn Italian. Personal lessons are good--positive reinforcement, and all that. {I pull the ever-present tube of sunscreen out of my shorts pocket and hand if off to you.} Sun's gettin' high in the sky, Michael. Time to suit up.

Michael:{I don't need it anymore; my skin is dark enough I've begun to tan already.But you're still fair, and I slick it over vulnerable areas.I get a little frisson of desire when I remember the first time I had occasion to apply sun lotion to you...and the sun had been far below the horizon at that time.That memory still has the power to heat my blood.But not now; perhaps later.We're too close to our destination now, and whilst the quick pounce is a pleasure, I'd like to take my time the next time we do it.That thought makes me snort a little; since when have we ever taken the time to go slowly?Never, as far as I can remember; we've always been so hungry for one another that slow has simply never been in our vocabulary.It matters not, I suppose, as long as we both find pleasure in what we do with one another.

Time seems to pass quickly out here, and we've sailed into the bay and docked at the marina almost before I can blink. My watch shows it to be just after ten; we're certainly making good time. It never ceases to amaze me how you handle something this large, almost as easily as you'd handle that bright red truck of yours.It doesn't take long before we're strolling companionably side by side, hands stuffed into our shorts, taking in the sights, looking for something to eat.}

Randy:{The breezes which were so strong out on the water are a lot calmer on land; still enough to ruffle our hair a little, but not to sweep us off our feet, like they'd been a few times this morning. I let my eyes wander over you from time to time; you've got to be one of the sexiest men I've ever seen. Tall and angular, but you move with a slow, loping grace that makes me want to toss you onto the ground. I laugh out loud, thinking about what your reaction to that--here--would be, never mind what the locals would think.} Gotta find food fast, darlin'... I'm wasting away to nothing here.

Michael:{I like this little town; it's picturesque, the pace slow and easy, as befits a vacation town.In spite of your declaration that you're starving to death, neither of us is really in that great a rush.I pull on sunglasses as we walk; it's very bright here, everything sharp and defined, more so than in San Francisco, for some reason.I'm not sure.Whatever it is, I like it.We can't find the restaurant you remember; it's gone out of business, so we start looking for another; more or less aimlessly wandering about.We pass by all kinds, even a French restaurant, but if I'm on vacation this far south, I want Mexican food, so we pass all others by until we finally settle on one, a little outdoor cafe that looks good.Sitting beneath an umbrella, it's cooler and shady, and the beer is good and cold, the food quite tasty. You're utterly relaxed, and it's a wonderful sight; animated, you talk of a great many things, and I'm content to simply listen and add in comments here and there as needed.I like to hear you, to listen to the flow and ebb of your speech; you've a lovely voice, smooth and deep, and your accent, whether you like it or not, provides a little fillip of spice.

Meal finished, we set back to wandering about; I like to exercise, and whilst fucking merrily is good exercise without a doubt, it's not everything.I'm accustomed to swimming and running daily, and my leg muscles feel the need to work.So you humor me, and we walk, taking a winding path through the town.Sometimes we talk, sometimes not; it doesn't really matter.I feel comfortable no matter whether we do or not.We pass another male couple---obviously a couple, as their arms are about one another---a couple of times; they nod and smile each time.After the second time we see them, I begin to notice the quiet; you've not said anything for a while, and a glance over at you shows me a quieter, serious look than I've seen since we've been away.I let it go a few minutes, but if anything, you're even more serious-looking than you were before, something clearly weighing upon your mind.Our wanderings have taken us to the square; this close to noon, the heat has driven most either inside or to the water, so it's relatively quiet.I find a bench that is somewhat shady and sink down on it with a sigh, stretching my legs out before me, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my loose shorts, crossing my legs at the ankles.}Feels good to have a bit of a rest, eh, Caro?{I dip my head and look out over the tops of my sunglasses at you.The space between us is more than just discreet, and it feels odd to have so much between us after having been so close.I measure a span of heartbeats before plunging in.} What is the matter?You look so serious.

Randy:{I've been giving it a lot of thought, the whole unprotected sex thing, but had tucked it away until an opportunity presented itself.Seeing the couple that we kept passing kind of brought it back into the forefront of my thoughts. Hell, seeing them brought all kinds of thoughts back into the forefront. They look happy; out having a stroll on a hot, lazy holiday weekend. I shift my gaze over to you; you look a little concerned, as well you probably should. I'd bet dollars to doughnuts you don't have a clue what I'm going to lay on you in a minute, and I have no way to predict how you'll react. While I've gotten to know a little bit deeper than the facade that you present to the general population, the fact remains that I know very little about you overall. Moods, reactions, all of it. I look at you again, watching me closely, your brow furrowed in puzzlement and concern.

The space between us feels odd; if it weren't for the fact that it has to be ninety degrees outside, I'd say it was making me chilly. But I think that's me. I take a deep breath, kind of psyching myself up for this; not wanting to ask, but knowing I have a responsibility at least to myself, to do it.}Michael... {Shit, this is awkward. And one of the reasons I've always had protected sex--to avoid having to do this.} I have... I did something really stupid, that first weekend we spent together. Something I've never done before. {I wish I could do this a little less awkwardly, though I'm not sure that's possible.} We...had sex without protection. And I need to know...if you've ever been tested...and if you're negative.

Michael:{I blink.Then I blink again.If you had suddenly punched me, I don't think I'd be more surprised.For a moment I just sit there, hands in my pockets, quite uncertain what to say.Little wonder you were quiet, if this has been on your mind.I'm curious as to what brought this up, and my mind ticks over the day, finally coming to rest on the gay couple we saw.That had to be the precipitating factor.Out of the corner of my eye, I see you go as still as death, and I realize I'm taking far too long to answer you, and that it could easily be construed as stalling, or formulating a lie.I'm doing neither, but you don't know that.I push my sunglasses to the top of my head, and turn to face you directly.}I'm negative.I've always tested negative, and I've been testing since there first *was* a test.And as for stupidity, you are not the only one culpable here.I believe I was there with you for that wild ride.

Randy:{I'm glad I'm sitting down; my knees just dissolved. Relief doesn't even come close to it. Of course, you could be lying through your teeth, but why? What would be the purpose in that? You're a highly visible, extremely powerful man, and while those factors don't preclude lying at all, they also lend some credence to your telling the truth. I shift around to face you, watching the grey of your eyes darken, lighten, widen, shrink. Expressive...so much more so than your face, though I can see you're being as open with me as you've been about anything. Nothing held back here. I nod, keeping my voice low; we don't need to share this with anyone else, if anyone is even in hearing distance.} Thank you. I've always tested negative, too... {I bite my lip for a minute, thinking, watching you watching me.} I've never had unprotected sex before, Michael. Never.And I know it took both of us... {I laugh a little, still feeling unsettled by how suddenly this popped out of my mouth,} that we're both responsible...but it surprised the hell out of me that I could forget something that...something of that magnitude.

Michael:Well, yes, rather...{I rub the back of my neck, self-conscious.}Though it may not seem like it, given the way I've gone after you, I generally do think before leaping in.At least I've always thought about protection, if not discretion.When I was young, in the seventies, there was nothing of the sort floating about, other than venereal disease, and the fear of pregnancy.Given that I indulged myself frequently---hell, that I was out of my clothes more often than I was in them, for a while---and I had no desire for either parenthood or huge doses of antibiotics, I protected myself.It became a habit.One that I am profoundly grateful for, given what popped up a few years later.When testing became available, I submitted to it twice yearly, and in all those years, I've tested negatively.Without fail.{I lean back against the bench, and look up at the sky through the branches of the tree above us.So very blue, with little white clouds floating about.}Even in moments of madness, I've always used protection.I don't know why I didn't insist upon it with you, why I didn't control myself, why I didn't wait until we had something available.It was utterly irresponsible.And truth to tell, I don't know why I never thought of it in all this time we've been together.It isn't as if I don't have them readily available.I'm...surprised, shocked at myself.I've been many things in my life, but never so...I don't know...blinded?I have no explanation for it, and no excuses.

Randy:Me, either. {I lean back against the bench as well, feeling myself relax a little.} And you haven't gone after me any worse than I've gone after you. {I feel a slow burn of heat on my cheeks; hell, I've gone after you like I was starving and you were fresh meat. Which isn't a bad metaphor. I shake my head, fixing my eyes on the adobe buildings in front of us; some kind of church or city hall building, I guess.} I've thought about it, Michael... hell, I got lectured about it by a friend of mine. I think "stupid and idiotic" were the nicest things he called me. I can't explain it either... not sure it matters at this point. It's done... now we need to decide if we want to keep on going, unprotected...or try and close the barn door. {I hate flushing; I feel like a kid again, and the first few conversations I ever had with Angel about sex. God.}

Michael:The horses are out, and the barn completely empty.{I roll my head slightly to focus on you.Your cheeks are red, and it isn't with sunburn.In this moment, you look so very young, and unsure, and my heart goes out to you, for bringing this up, as well as admiring the bravery it took to do so, to admit foolishness. That's a hard thing for a man to do, to admit he's been a fool.My throat and mouth suddenly feels very dry, and it's difficult to swallow.}I think...our next decisions depend upon you.{I draw a deep breath, knowing how my next words are going to sound, but unable to stop them.}Are you wanting to stay with me for a while, or am I simply a fuck for you?

Randy:{For the space of several heartbeats, I'm not sure I heard you right. I know my mouth is open, staring at you. I can feel myself go rigid, though I try to stop it, to deflect it, to lessen it. Anger sears through me, red and black with heat, making everything in my vision appear to sizzle for a minute. The urge to get up, to move, is strong, but I can't. If I get up, I'll leave, and that'll get us nowhere. Still, my words come out in an angry hiss, and I can feel my knuckles trying to pop through my skin, I'm clenching my fists so tight.} I thought by now you'd have figured out you're more than 'just a fuck' for me, Michael.

Michael:{If you hit me, as it seems every cell in your body wants to do, I'd probably deserve it for that callous question.For a second, I thought you might.I think the ambient temperature about us has gone up twenty degrees from the fire of your anger.I can feel myself respond, feel the slow curl of ire deep within me in response to your tone, your scathing words, but I clamp down on it.One of us hurt and angry is more than enough.}I'm a bastard for saying that, yes.But the question remains, and is legitimate.{I hold your gaze steadily; this is too important now to fuck up.}Are you staying with me for a long time, or is this something that will burn itself out in a few days, a few weeks?Is this temporary, or something...more?{Your eyes are too hurt, too angry, too...everything...to hold anymore.I look back out over the square, fastening on the adobe church.My words come out softly, and surprise me as they do.}I know what I feel, what I think, what I want, what I...need.{My heart is pounding hard, my stomach clenches, and somehow, there's not enough air to breathe.But I plow on, relentlessly.}I know what I'm asking.I know what I'm willing to risk in asking.What about you?

Randy:{God, you're asking things that I don't know if I can answer right now! I know what I want, yes. But can I have it? Do I have the guts to go for it? I've put relationships at arms' length for a long time now, spooked beyond measure by the way things ended with Bran. I think I hate you right now; your assessment that you're a bastard is one I'd readily agree with. What right do you have asking these things of me, demanding an answer? I can't sit any longer. I don't think I'll bolt, but I can't sit still. I have to move. You twitch when I get off the bench, probably certain I'm going to leave, like I'm sure my body language is screaming. I shake my head once at you, not sure if I'm trying to reassure you, or me, then pace in front of the bench, never leaving your sight, nor letting you move from mine. Your question *is* legitimate; I can't fault you for wanting those answers. Hell, I want 'em too. I think.

After a few minutes of thinking, of pacing, I settle back on the bench, no longer ready to hit you, though I'm still angry. Angry with both of us. You're watching me intently, waiting, your eyes dark and questioning.} I...it's not something that's going to burn out in a few weeks, Michael. {My throat hurts, it's so dry, and I swear I can feel my pulse pounding in my head.} I'm not...I'm willing to risk, too. As much as it takes.

Michael:{Was it only a day or two ago that I didn't want to speak of this, even to think of it?Strange, how your whole mindset can change with one single subject, one single question.But there it is, before us, and neither of us can ignore it any more.}It may take rather more than you think.I'm...difficult at times.{I can't help the self-depreciating snort.}Demanding.Possessive.When I have something, I hold to it.On the other hand, I am utterly faithful and committed if we decide this is worthwhile.{I reach out a hand, stroke my fingers lightly over your clenched fist.}And Caro, I think this is worthwhile.I think it's *good*.Worth pursuing.

Randy:{I blow a breath out, letting one hand uncurl enough twine our fingers together. There's a part inside me that's gibbering in terror right now; utter, absolute terror. Faithful and committed is good. Demanding, I can handle. Possessive.... I push thoughts of Bran to the far back of my consciousness, determined to ignore those. Bran was unbalanced; you don't seem to be. Of course, he didn't either, at first. Another deep breath, and I let loose with a harsh bark of laughter.} Don't think I'm a picnic, Michael. I have a temper, as you've just seen. I'm a workaholic; I'm a grouch when I'm working and get bothered, and I like my freedom to do as I please when I need to do it. {I squeeze your fingers, looking up to meet your eyes again.} But, I will be completely faithful...committed. And...{I swallow, my voice turning fainter than before.} I think it's good, too. Worthwhile.

Michael:{I let my hand wander up to caress your cheek, settle lightly on the back of your neck, and you permit the touch.I can still see the flash of anger in your green eyes; you're not over that yet, and with that...I'm not certain, but it looks suspiciously like you're trying to squelch down a healthy amount of fear. I wonder what it is, if it is related to this or something different, and if you'll eventually tell me.I hope so, because I meant it when I said I thought this...relationship with you is worthwhile.I try and make my tone a little lighter.}You look as if you think I'll eat your soul.I won't.I'm not after your freedom.I won't cage you, or limit you.That...wasn't my intention.This wasn't a trap, or a trick question, Caro.I want...well, hell.I'd like for this...to be more.More than just casual.

Randy:I know. But it's good to hear. {I blow out again, my cheeks puffing. Behind us, on one of the footpaths, I can hear voices; teenaged boys, from the sound of it. One's voice, vaguely derisive, saying something about the fags on the bench. He's not important; I've never cared or tried to hide who and what I am. You, though...you are important. You matter to me, a lot more than I'm comfortable admitting, even to myself right now. I let myself relax a little more, my shoulders loosening as I lean back, and a little closer to you.} I know it wasn't a trick question, Michael. And you--you're a good man, darlin'. {I touch your check once, very briefly, and offer you the first smile I've felt was natural and honest in probably the better part of an hour.}

Michael:{I pull you closer, leaning in to meet you halfway, and brush a kiss over your mouth.It isn't the kind I'd like to give you, a deep, intense one to show you how I feel, as words are difficult, but it must suffice.When I pull back, some of the fright is gone from your eyes, but not all, and I wonder what it is I said that put it there.I know I can be intense, and can come off wrong, too strongly.The most I can do is to try and make amends.I press another kiss onto your sweet mouth, then smile, and then give your shoulder a little squeeze and rise.}Let's be off?

Randy:I--yeah. Let's get going. We have an island to get to. {Your kiss surprised me; I wasn't expecting it, out here, in public. I'm not prone to public displays of affection, but it felt good, made the moment seem a little...less intense. You must think I'm some kind of goof; I can see the concern in your eyes even now, as we're standing up and heading back for the docks. I don't know how to tell you that it's not *you*... I guess, in time, everything will out. I feel...oddly relieved, in a way, that we've made a commitment of sorts. As deep as my desire is to go slow and do this right, it feels good to know that you want exclusiveness; I guess I wanted it too, on levels I hadn't really been aware of, just reacting to.

Walking purposefully instead of wandering, it doesn't take us all that long to get through the small town and back to the docks. A good, stiff breeze is gusting the sails out the minute I raise them, and we're out to sea again in the blink of an eye. A couple of hours, maybe, and we'll be in the warm waters of the central Pacific Ocean. The coves around the islands are deep enough for swimming and snorkeling, but shallow enough sharks aren't a big concern as long as we stay close to land. Near land, there are some big rocks that are perfect for sunning, and I'm looking forward to watching you get a tan all over. You look over at me from your perch on the stool beside me when I laugh out loud, and I just smirk and grin. I'm going to keep the sunscreen handy, because there are some parts ofyou I definitely don't want you to get sunburn on. The breeze flutters the sails, the sound of canvass thumping against the rigging is one that makes my heart race with adrenaline. I laugh just for the hell of it, feeling more at peace right now than I've felt in days... weeks.}

*****

Michael:{It was incredibly beautiful, growing warmer the further south we went.I had no idea specifically where we were, and didn't particularly care.All that mattered was the gorgeous afternoon, the pleasant company, and the blueness of the sea that surrounded us.I felt...wonderful. It was as if some weight I hadn't been aware of carrying had been taken from me.I grin, watching your long body stretched out on the deck, soaking up the sunshine.I'd been teaching you to swear in Italian, and I knew you'd be good at it if only you didn't laugh every time I say something.I let the bottle of tea dangle between my knees as I lean forward again.}No, you're running it together.Vaf-fan-cu-lo.And you need to say it with attitude, or else they'll just laugh at you.

Randy:{I laugh myself, then reach forward and swipe your bottle, taking a long drink. It took a little while of sailing, just concentrating on the sun and the sails, and the water beneath us, but I feel back to normal. You gave me the time I needed, and when we both realized I'd settled some, we retreated to the deck for a rest in the sun, which has turned into an impromptu lesson in Italian.} You wanna tell me again what I'm saying? {I reach out and touch your thigh; the droplet of moisture that had dripped from the bottle gleamed there, and I rub it into your skin, just liking to touch you.}

Michael:Ah.Just a general, all purpose 'Fuck you,' suitable for those times you simply don't want to take the time to say anything more creative.Works well in traffic, unless you're shouting at another Italian, and then you'd better be prepared to deliver something more scathing.{I laugh again.}It's all done with panache.{I shift my leg outward slightly, watching your fingers move over my skin, already beginning to darken.I like the difference between our skin tones, the contrast. }Now, here's something that can be vulgar, or not, depending on the context, and the tone of delivery.{I let my voice drop, low and husky, and run my thumb over your full lower lip.}La tuo bocca fu creata per fare pompini.

Randy:{I kiss your thumb, flicking my tongue against it.You give me a...smile? Not quite a grin, but fuller than just a smile would be, and I bite the tip gently, sucking it into my mouth for a moment. A warm tingle is spreading through me, radiating from my stomach outward. It's sexual, and not. So much more than that, so many things inside right now. I let go, my lips forming the words, stumbling over them. How in the hell can I read and speak Latin, Russian, Japanese and Spanish, and not get Italian? I roll my eyes and lick my lips, then bring your hand up to my mouth again, to kiss, then suck briefly, each finger. My own voice is low, like yours, reacting to the tone, more than the words.} Say it again? Then... then tell me what it means.

Michael:{Heat courses through me as you suck and lick each finger, pulling them in deeply, tongue swirling about them, making my cock throb in jealousy.}La tuo bocca...your mouth...fu creata...was made...per fare pompini...to suck cock.{I lean in and press my mouth against yours, softly.}

Randy:{I smile against your mouth, the laughter bubbling up around our kiss. My hands slide up over your thighs, holding them, rubbing gently. I break away and lean in to whisper in your ear, my voice husky, matching yours.} Sounds like an invitation to me, darlin'. {I lick at the spot just below your ear that always makes you shiver for me, my hands sliding a little higher, stroking and kneading at the heat of your skin.}

Michael:{I lean back on my hands on the blanket we're perched on, and open my legs wider for you.I can feel your mouth smile, and your teeth nip easily at me.I murmur close to your ear.}Succhialo...suck it...lick it...

Randy:{If I had to use just one word to define us, and what passes between us, it would be *heat*. I bite down gently on the skin of your neck, my tongue stroking over it when you whimper, feeling the heat flowing from your body into mine. I shift more comfortably onto my knees, my mouth moving on your neck, my hands sliding full up to caress you through the thin shorts you're wearing. You're hard, standing up fully erect behind the fabric, and I use one hand to stroke up and down, cupping and kneading your swollen length. I can feel you pulsing against my hand, and I laugh again, low and dark, when you shudder against me. You lean back further when I push you gently, and as you go, I slide the shorts down, leaving them around your thighs. The tip of your cock is peeking out from your 'skin, and I lean to run the tip of my tongue over you, then around inside the loose foreskin, gathering the droplets of precome and sweat that are there, swallowing them eagerly. I give you a wink, then offer huskily,} Mi bocca...fu creata per fare tuo pompini.

Michael:{I wriggle a little, trying to spread out wider, hampered by the shorts around my thighs.Frustrated, I growl, and you smile in that hot, heart stopping way you have, and peel them from my legs.Better, better...naked before you, beneath the blue of the sky and the heat of the sun.I can feel sweat forming, and slipping down my throat, down my ribs, between my legs.Your fingers stroke and knead the muscles of my thighs, and I relax again, spreading them further apart, slipping one over your smooth, broad shoulder.You nuzzle against my groin, and I shiver when I feel your tongue slip along the juncture where thigh meets body, a warm, wet tease.}Succhiami il cazzo, Caro...suck my cock, Caro...

Randy:Mmmm. Oh, yeah...{You wiggle again when I hum against your thigh, and I nip lightly, my tongue rubbing over the prickles of gooseflesh. I cup your balls, rolling the swollen sacs in my palm, feeling their weight. You squirm again, and I can hear you panting lightly. This is perfect...it's hot, and bright out here, and you're naked, spread out like a feast for me, under the brightness. My fingers tease your balls, and the smooth skin behind them, and I move my head again to take the tip of you in my mouth, sucking lightly. An explosion of flavor spreads across my tongue; the salt of sweat, the bitterness of precome; the musky taste that I've come to associate with you. I hear you groan and I grin around your cock before lowering my head, taking you deeper into my mouth.}

Michael:Ahhh...that's so good...cosi mi piace....{And it does; you're so hot and wet, with such a talented tongue.I like to watch you do this--it's utterly erotic to see myself disappear into your mouth and emerge, red and shiny with a combination of your saliva and my juices.I'd like to see us someday before a mirror, watching as well as feeling; I know that would be incredibly arousing, to see you writhing and shuddering on my cock...I jerk as my body responds, almost leaping in anticipation.}

Randy:{It's so easy to lose myself in sucking you; you taste wonderful, your body is warm, and smells good, and just knowing that you're enjoying this as much as I am--if for different reasons--makes me almost giddy. I push back on you, spreading my fingers over your thighs, rubbing and kneading, pressing into the warm skin. I suck harder now, raising and lowering my head, my tongue rubbing and flicking over the sensitive skin, teasing the vein that's pulsing rapidly underneath. On one upward stroke I release you, watching your flesh bobbing in front of me, hard and engorged, blood-red at the tip. I can see the juices welling up, and rub my thumb over the head, gathering up the small droplets.} D'you know how sexy you are like this, Michael? Hot...sexy...makes me wanna swallow you whole. {I slide my fingers down, stroking over your dick, cupping your balls, back further, until I can press my thumb against your small opening. You gasp and jerk, and as I breach you with the tip, I swallow you down again, taking_  
_you halfway in one stroke.}

Michael:{I let go a startled, pleased sound; I can be as noisy as I wish, here.Shifting over to one elbow, I slip my fingers into your hair, down over your cheek and further, over the sharp line of your jaw before my fingers move to your throat, feeling the muscles shift as your swallow, and the sensation of being swallowed.}Perfect...

Randy:{Oh, yes, it is...it truly is. You stroke my throat while I swallow you, sucking you deeper. I can feel you inside and outside of me, and it's incredibly erotic. I push my thumb a little deeper and begin a slow, gentle fucking motion, bobbing my head in time, taking you deeper with each suck. I want you to spend in my mouth; I want to drink your juices, drain you dry. I can hear the soft, whispered words, and even if I don't understand all of them, I get the gist of what you're saying. Suck your cock. Suck it 'til you come. Drink you. I groan and suck harder, deeper, wanting to taste you.}

Michael:{The rhythm you set is merciless, and within moments, I'm gasping and moaning helplessly.I thrash beneath you, trying to thrust upward, but you're strong, and hold me down so I can't.Enveloped before, penetrated behind, a double sweetness I like so well from you.It was so easy to trust you with my body, to allow you to give touches and caresses I'd not allowed for so long.With you, I crave them once more.I wriggle beneath you, and clamp tightly around your thumb.}More...give me your fingers....

Randy:{I wiggle my thumb inside you, then pull off your cock with a loud sucking, slurping noise. Your eyes have gone from grey to black, all wide-open pupil, even as bright as it is out here. I thrust gently with my thumb, moving it back and forth, laughing low when you groan and thrust your hips upward.} Want more, huh? Wanna fuck my mouth while I play with your ass? {The sunscreen is setting right next to us, and I flip it open, applying it liberally to my index and middle fingers, then smoothing them over your pucker. More moisture beading up on your cock; a few drops drip downward, and I bend my head to lick at them.}

Michael:{I reach down and wrap my fingers about your wrist, and guide you back, pressing you against me, and with a gasp that breaks from me, into me.I can feel the burn as muscles stretch open, feel the fullness of your fingers within me, moving slowly, deeply into me, and god, it hurts, and feels good at the same time.You distract me a little by licking me, long, wide strokes of your tongue on stiff flesh; it feels wonderful.}

Randy:{Even though you've taken me like this before, it's only been one finger at a time, I think...and you're so tight. I hold still for a minute, licking and sucking your cock, your balls, making you drip with moisture. When you relax around me, I push my fingers in deeper, rubbing and stroking, feeling for your prostate. You jerk and give a loud grunt when I nail it the first time, and your cock practically leaps in my mouth. I laugh again, loving that I can get this response from you, and rub it again, easier this time, taking you deep inside me to start the rhythm over.}

Michael:{I have a half-formed urge to spread wider, to ask for something much more substantial than your fingers, to feel *you* within me, heavy and huge, but the thought of it slices through me, making me clench hard and spasm around your fingers, drawing a muffled grunt from you.Resolutely, I push that thought and the anxieties it raises firmly away, not wanting to spoil the pleasure of this, the pleasure of your mouth upon me, your fingers within me.I draw a deep, shuddering breath, and relax again, voice rising in a moan as you swallow me down, deeper than before.}

Randy:{I don't know what caused the sudden spasm, or the flash of a different kind of heat in your eyes, but it's gone now; you're relaxing back down, moving your hips in time with my sucking, with my thrusts. I wonder if you've ever been fucked, or just like a little anal stimulation sometimes. Ahh, something to ask, later. Right now, I want to consume you...take as much of you into me as I can... I suck harder, moving faster, one hand holding your hip, the other fucking my fingers in and out. I'm hard, pulsing in time with your cock in my mouth, and I wonder if I'll come when you do. It's been a long time since I've been with anyone who could excite me enough to come without direct touch--but I came so close last night; I think I could.}

Michael:{I can feel the beginning of the rush of orgasm, building steadily, winding tighter and tighter within me, threatening to break and spill.I thrash uncontrollably, aching, needing, wanting...and then with a howl, the storm breaks within me, sending my seed out in a hot gush, my muscles clamping down fiercely on the invaders within me. Pure, molten pleasure pours over me, through me as I come, hard on your fingers, within your mouth.}

Randy:{At the last minute I drop my grip on your hip and rub myself fiercely through my shorts; my own orgasm rips through me just as yours begins, and I come in my pants as I swallow the thick fluid you're pumping into my mouth. God, what a rush...to feel you, taste you, to know you've made me come like this--so hot, I spill into my clothes. I slow my thrusting when your body relaxes some, pressing gently one last time on the small, swollen gland, feeling the throb of your body when you moan and your cock jerks once in my mouth. I suckle gently, then lick you clean before letting you go. Your chest is still heaving as you lie back, and I follow, wiping my fingers on the blanket before curling in close to you, my lips touching yours, then your neck, your throat.}

Michael:Ah, Caro....{I whisper, and slide my arms about you.We're both breathless, slick with sweat, smelling of semen and musk.I can feel your heart beat against mine, a hard, regular rhythm.My whole body tingles, and my ass feels curiously empty, and will most likely be sore. But I feel replete with pleasure.It's always good with you--you take such care to make it good for me.}It's always so good with you...{I tip you over and cover your mouth with my own, delving deeply, tasting myself on you, salty and bitter.My hand slips down to curl around you, to stroke you to completion as I kiss you, but I encounter only sticky, softening flesh and clammy shorts.Disappointment, and conversely, pleasure, sweeps through me---I'd wanted to bring you to completion, to taste you, and you've already come.I smooth your seed onto your cock, onto your balls, feeling you shudder as I touch skin already sensitized.}You came, Caro...

Randy:Yeah...{I clear my throat; it's a little rough from having you down it, pounding into me.} I was gonna--wait...but you get me so hot, Michael. Ahh...{I arch a little into your touch, not really aroused, but enjoying the sensation. I reach down to push my shorts off, then roll to my side to kiss you again. I could kiss you forever. When we break for air, I laugh huskily.} Haven't creamed my shorts in a long time, darlin'.

Michael:{I laugh at that, and kiss you briskly, rolling up into a sitting position to look about, one hand idly stroking your smooth, flat stomach.Glancing down at you, one arm flung over your face to shield it from the sun, I'm filled with...I'm not exactly sure what it is I feel; it's a mixture of many different things.Happiness, certainly--affection, admiration, sexual repletion, amusement, not a little gratitude, and if I was scrupulously honest with myself, a bit of fear.

We match so well, almost *too* well; it's almost frightening.And I like too much how well we're suited for one another. Lazily, your hand moves to pet and stroke the curve of my lower back, a soothing touch, and it makes the sudden tension I feel slip away. We've resolved one question today, made our commitment of a sorts, and I'll leave it there.I press a kiss to your full mouth, reddened and swollen from your attentions to me.It's a different kiss than any other we've shared, I think, softer, somehow more intimate, more tender.You move your arm from over your eyes and look at me as I pull back a fraction, breathing your breath, breath scented with me.Something passes between us; I feel it, though I can't place a name to it, and am loathe at the moment to try.I run the backs of my fingers down your cheek, then am up on my feet again.} Best steer this thing before we crash into an island, Caro.

Randy:Hah. Those are the islands we want, darlin'. {I climb to my feet and stretch lazily, enjoying the pull of muscles, then pad off to my stool. The cove I had in mind for us is on the far side of the smallest of the four islands, and I adjust the course appropriately, turning the boat in that direction.

You're all eyes, watching as much as you can, and I grin, knowing that you're seeing it the way I did the first time I sailed here. It's absolutely beautiful out here; lush greenery trailing all over the islands themselves, with smooth, white sand making up the beach areas. The sea and the sky merge at points, darker blue and lighter blue, and then are bisected by bands of color in between. There're seagulls everywhere, swooping down around us, calling to one another. I can see a few other boats dotting the area here and there, but not many. We'll have a fair amount of privacy.

I maneuver us into the mouth of the cove before dropping the sails; the motor will steer us in now. The closer inland we get, the more the water lightens; light, clear blue water with a pristine layer of sand and coral beneath it. Deep enough to swim in, to play in. Large rocks near the edge of the island, just like I remembered. The breeze is warmer here, too. I cut the motor and drop the anchor, then make sure the sails are tied down.} We can swim to the island later, if you want, and do some hiking...or not.

Michael:{It is lovely, as beautiful as the Greek islands, and much less crowded.I can see other boats sailing around, but few of them, and they're not that close.Perfect privacy.I eye the big rocks along the shore; they'd be perfect to lie on and soak up the sun's heat, later.}No wonder you love this place, Caro...it's lovely.

Randy:It is great, isn't it. {I flash you a grin, then rub my belly.} Seems I'm a bit sticky here, darlin'. Wanna go for a swim, then maybe take a nap? Or take a nap, then go for a swim? I figure we'll stay here tonight and tomorrow; we can get back the last day with no problem--I gave you the scenic route coming down here. What's your pleasure, Michael?

Michael:Hmm.The possibilities....{I grin, then herd you toward the hatch that leads below decks.You laugh, and acquiesce, moving along before me, my hands on your shoulders.}How about you take a shower whilst I make you something for lunch, then we can nap, and swim later?Does that sound acceptable?

Randy:Sounds like a plan. {My stomach chooses that moment to rumble its agreement; I hadn't realized I'd get hungry quite so soon after all the food I ate at the Mexican place. I glance at my watch, surprised it's been several hours; it hadn't felt like that long.} Time flies fastest when you're enjoying yourself the most. {I mutter under my breath, shivering when you kiss me once on the neck before pushing me on toward the head.}

Michael:Begone with you.{I pat your ass as you go through the door, then turn my steps to the galley.Lunch is simple and easy, mostly fruit, with sandwiches; by the time you're finished with your shower and emerge, warm and scented with soap, nothing on but a towel around your lean hips, it's finished.

As we eat, I'm grateful the easiness is back between us; for a while, I'd wondered if we'd continue to carry the tenseness around with us.I was a right bastard, and I know it; you'd be well within your rights to still be angry with me.I suppose that I'm fortunate; your anger flares hot, then subsides quickly, it appears.Whilst I shower, you pick up after us, and when I emerge, you're spread out on our bed, a warm, living feast.I grin, whip off my towel and join you for a bit of snogging and a nap.}

Randy:{You have a body I could look at forever, I think; long, lean, angular, fleshed out nicely in all the right places. And god, you're warm. It's nice to have someone warm to curl into while lying in bed. I'm glad we talked, even if it was uncomfortable to do. And even if you acted like a prick doing it, you were right in demanding an answer out of me. It still rankles a little that you don't *know* I see you as more than just a fuck...but on the other hand, did I know, before today? I've been wondering the same thing for days now... Just haven't had the balls to ask you. I snuggle closer, and brush my lips over your neck, then breathe in deeply. I love your scent, fresh from the shower.} You smell good, darlin'.

Michael:{I make a noncommittal murmur and pull the sheet up over us and settle in for some petting and sleepy kisses, nothing overtly arousing, just a bit of fun.It doesn't take long before I'm warm and sleepy and comfortable, and fall asleep curled around you, my hand in your groin.}

*****

Randy:{We changed positions at some point during our nap; when I wake up and look around groggily, I'm curled around you, holding you tight against me. You don't seem to have a problem with it, your fingers are threaded through mine, hanging on just as tightly. Insecurity rising to the fore while the conscious mind is shut down? Interesting...maybe I should have been a psych major. I make a face at that thought; most of the psych majors I knew in school were a boring bunch. So much for the idea that they were a wild crowd. I untangle myself slowly from you, then stretch, letting my body bump yours gently. You snort in your sleep, rolling toward me. It occurs to me that I could get very used to this; waking up with you.} Hey, sleepyhead. Wanna get up and go for a swim?

Michael:{I mutter something, half-awake, and curl around you a moment, wrapping myself about you.Nice.Very nice.Until I'm with someone, I forget how sweet it is to wake up with another.You wriggle a bit, and with a sigh, I release you, and you roll out of bed to stretch.I watch with unabashed appreciation; you're such a beautiful man.}I suppose so...we can't waste such sunshine and heat.{I can't help the grin that slashes across my face.}And nothing but sex, sex, sex, is boring all the time.

Randy:{I grin in response, stretching my body again. Small as the boat is, I can brace my hands on the ceiling while I do so.} If you're thinking that sex is boring, man, I'm doing something seriously wrong here. {Your shoulders are shaking, you're trying so hard to hold in the laugh I can see on your face.} Wanna get frisky in the water, darlin'? It's clear, and just deep enough for swimming. Or we could go lie on the rocks and sun ourselves; I always feel kind of like a lizard, lying up there, soaking up the sun and the heat.

Michael:I'm feeling rather lizard-ish.God knows neither of us gets much of a chance to lie about like that, what with our work schedules and all.{I slip by you, giving you a quick squeeze about the waist.I feel lazy and content, still a bit sleepy, though I know the swim will take care of that.Up on top again, I reach for the Speedo I'd left there to dry, then look around and shrug; there's no one about, so why bother with it?I stand at the rail and wait until you're there and ready to go, then arc into the water with more grace than the cannonball I'd done previously.The water is warm and clear, perfect, and when I hear your splash, I head off toward the outcropping of rocks with you close behind.}

Randy:{It feels good to be loose in the water. It's warm, and comfortable, unlike our cold swim yesterday. Funny, the difference a few hundred miles can make. You're a much more powerful swimmer than I am; already you're nearly to the rocks, arms slicing cleanly through the water, leaving churning water in your wake. I'm a good swimmer, and strong, but I'm bulkier than you; I think it's that difference that makes you go that much quicker.

The rocks, when I do get there, are warm; I climb up quickly, sighing at the comfortable heat that bakes slowly into my body.} God, this is nice. I'd take these things back home with me, if I could figure out how to.

Michael:{I glance over at you; already the sun is drying our skin. Folding my arms behind my head, I let its heat seep into me.}Well, if anyone could figure a way to do it, you could.You say we're heading back tomorrow?

Randy:Eh, {I shrug, my eyes closed against the sun.} Probably not until Monday morning. We'll leave early, and I can get us back before dark--we just won't stop several times like we did, coming down here. Unless you want to leave at mid-day, and take our time again. {I roll to my side and look at you.} I always hate the going-back part; if I could live out here, I would. Of course, I'd probably be bored to tears inside a week...but it'd be nice to pretend I could.

Michael:For awhile, but like you, I'd be bored quickly, I think, though I might last a bit longer than a week.{I shift over to my belly, cushion my head on my arms.}So what are your plans once we get back to the real world?

Randy:Ah, the real world. {I frown at the water below us.} Well, Memorial Day weekend is the kick-off for summer vacation, but not for this guy. I'm teaching Intro to Biology at GGCC for the two summer terms, that'll be two nights a week, for four-hour blocks; Mondays and Wednesdays I'll probably leave open for tutoring. At work we're trying to get some results on a series of tests for a new anti-stroke medication...so, probably long hours--meaning go in early, since I can't stay late... And whatever free time is left...hopefully, hang out with you as much as possible. {I turn my head to watch you; the heat is making me feel warm and lazy.} How 'bout you?  
_  
_Michael:Not nearly as busy as you, clearly.A couple of trips; the one to Seattle is first, and I've got to go to New Orleans later, then to Phoenix.Around those trips, it's pretty fluid.In the fall, I'll go to England to see Mother and Nonna.Back again for Christmas and New Years.Not nearly as busy as you.{I let the sun seep into me for awhile, then stir a bit. } You're welcome to stay the night anytime you wish, Caro.I'd...like that.

Randy:Thanks, darlin'... I'd like that. Beats the hell out of waking up alone. {I reach out, trail my fingers down your back. You're sweating lightly from the sun and the heat, and I like the contrast of the tiny drops of liquid against the warmth of your skin.} How long--do you go for, at Christmas and the like?

Michael:{I shiver a little as your fingers trail down my back.It feels good.}Generally from just before Christmas, to just after New Years.The whole family comes in, and we have a huge traditional dinner.My friend Mark always has a big party for New Years, and we go to that.I like it simply because I get to see the family---they don't come this way often.Lizzie's not been over for...god, three years?But then her studies keep her there.I'll be glad to see her again.{I crack open an eye and peer at you.}I think you'd like Lizzie, and she'd definitely like you.

Randy:Hmm. {I scoot a little closer, letting my fingers tickle over the dip your back makes just before your ass, then back up again, rubbing lightly. I can smell you from here; warm, sweaty, with a hint of spice from the soap and shampoo you used when you showered earlier. Up, my fingers digging into the tendons in the back of your neck, then back down, smoothing down your spine.} What's she do, that keeps her studying so much?

Michael:She's in a medical program...she'd like to go into pediatrics.You know, you could do some serious rubbing there instead of larking about.I'd be most appreciative.{I grunt as you smack my ass sharply, then raise yourself to straddle my thighs.You're heavy but welcome there, and when your strong fingers dig into my shoulders, kneading firmly, I let out a long, deep moan.}Ah.Right...there.

Randy:{You moan again when I find another knot, and the sound sends shivers all through me. I work through the knots slowly, rubbing and smoothing, taking my time.} Y'know, I like a man who's so vocal with his appreciation of my...technique. {I grin at the muffled curse, then shift back a little bit, letting some of the heavy-duty massaging turn into softer, easier caresses. I mix the two casually, hearing your moans change tenor here and there as you respond.} I love touching you, y'know. Every part of you.

Michael:Well, I shan't complain.{My voice is muffled against my arms and the rock.It's a lovely feeling to have your hands upon me, broad, strong calloused, and you seem to know instinctively where to find the knots and kinks...not that there are many now, as relaxed as I am.I think I drift off a bit; my mind goes fuzzy, and when I blink again, your body lies beside mine.When did you lie down?It doesn't matter; we've no particular agenda.I roll a bit; my skin has the tight, dry feeling of a lot of sun.I'll be quite dark when we return; my olive skin tans easily.Onto my back now, to let my front bake for a while.You're napping as well; a quick glance into the sky at the position of the sun shows me that not much time has passed.Good.As fair as you are, even with sunscreen, you'll burn, not a good proposition.I lean in and press a kiss to your full mouth.Easy, nothing provocative; simply because I can.It has been awhile since I've been in a place where I felt as free as I do now, and I intend to luxuriate in it.We'll be returning all too soon to the real world, to work and school and schedules that have bound us into place.It will be difficult to find the time to see one another given how busy we both are, but now, I can't imagine not seeing you.We'll work it out somehow, though.}Caro...turn over...you'll burn if you don't.

Randy:{It was too easy to slip into sun-induced stupor; I was glad Michael's voice pulled me back from that. Lazily, slowly, I roll onto my stomach, letting my back soak up some of the sun.} It's too bad there isn't a better mix of this and real life, eh? {Real life is going to suck rocks, I suspect, because you and I both have killer schedules this summer. When are we going to manage to find time for Randy and Michael, in the midst of all other stuff? I smile at you, loving the way your eyes catch and hold the light; it makes them look as if they have tiny lightning storms inside.} If you could do anything...anything at all...unhampered by cost, by public or private opinions, by family, whatever...what would it be?

Michael:{The question startles me, and I can't help but laugh.}Anything at all?{I roll my head to the side so I can see you, and your green gaze captures me.}Beyond world hunger, disease, poverty, all that?

Randy:Beyond all that. {I grin.} Those are generally givens, with most people. {I shift up onto one elbow, canting my head so I can see you without the glare of sun in my eyes.} So? What would it be?

Michael:Nothing like asking a simple question, Caro.{I stall for a moment, thinking.}As much as I'd like to change some of the things in my past, I don't think I would---it would change the present, and I happen to like the present as it is.People...relationships long gone...they're all in the past now.{I don't say that I can fairly much do as I please, and that I have the funds to do it; that would be egotistical in the extreme.}I would like to see the Foundation completed, and functioning.My father and I did not have the best of relationships, but that was one thing we could share, could work toward together.{My shoulder lifts in a shrug.}That's not really an answer, is it, given that it will happen.

Randy:Well, it's not a bad one, considering the question. {I reach out with my free hand and stroke one lock of hair off your forehead; you have one piece that falls forward constantly.} You already know how I feel about the Foundation, so I think it's a good thing you're doing. {I stretch one leg outward, pointing and flexing my toes. I can feel a cramp trying to start, and really don't want to go there.} I'd like to go mountain climbing. Real mountains. Mount McKinley, or maybe K-2, something like that. How's that for a goal. Probably won't ever be realized, but I'm not sure I could handle the heights; I've never done more than hiking, never done any real mountain-climbing...but it sure would be awesome.

Michael:What about sailing around the world?I'd have thought that would be on your list of things to do, given how much you love the water.{I lace my hands behind my head and let my eyes drift closed again.}

Randy:Well, that's on my list of possible, probable, could happen. The mountain climbing isn't. {You look too good, lying here beside me on a sunbaked rock. I lean over and kiss you, then kiss your neck, because I'm becoming addicted to the little sigh you make when your neck gets caresses.} Can I ask you something? It's personal.

Michael:Certainly, Caro.{I open my eyes.You sound serious again, and the mouth I find so compelling is set in a firm line.Very serious, then.I wonder if this question will lead to a row; I hope not, as I'm feeling far from confrontational right now.}

Randy:Relax, I don't think it's going to hurt. {I give you a slight smile, trying to put you at ease. We've had a lot of tension between us today, and I'm sure not going to add to that.} I was thinking...about the other night. Under the docks. And when we talked afterward, about our backgrounds in bdsm...at least a little...well, I was wondering just how far you would go. In a relationship where trust wasn't an issue.

Michael:Ah.*That*.{I can't help the smile that teases at the corners of my mouth.Such a memorable night.}In that kind of relationship, trust is everything.It must be, given the exchange of power that occurs.But if trust is not an issue, if it is core to the relationship, then the boundaries of what I would or would not do with my partner can be as fluid as we choose.Ultimately, it is up to my sub how far we go.He or she chooses the direction, and I follow.{I smile at him, wryly.}Not at all what people typically think of a bdsm relationship, is it?We both know who holds the ultimate power in a relationship based on respect and trust, instead of the childish games the uninitiated play.

Randy:True enough. {I shift again, drawing myself up into a sitting position, pulling my leg up over the opposite thigh. It keeps trying to cramp, and I make a mental note to eat some bananas with dinner tonight. I concentrate for a minute, rubbing the muscles, trying to work out the knot forming there, not sure if I want to meet your eyes or not.} How do you feel about erotic pain?

Michael:{I sit up and fold myself into a sitting position across from you, and tug your ankle until you slip your leg across my lap, into my hands.I flex your ankle upward, straightening out your leg, and the cramp.You protest, then subside as the cramp eases a bit, enough so I can knead it away.}Myself, I like a bit of erotic pain; it lends spice to something already wonderful.A pinch, a bite, a tug of hair, a slap on the bum---it can feel good, in that context.But I'm certain that's not what you're meaning, is it, Caro?

Randy:No...I'm not. {I watch your hands rubbing my calf; it feels good. Damn good. And watching your hands, with the long fingers, is like watching a ballet of sorts. I nearly laugh, then catch myself, wondering how I'd explain that. Probably no one else has ever likened your hands to a ballet. Eyes back up to meet yours; looking at the rock isn't going to get me anywhere.} I mean pain, Michael. Whippings, strappings, tit and cock torture... some not so bad, some heavy-duty. Could you...do that?

Michael:I can do that...I have done that.{I allow my fingers to trace over the tender skin behind your knee, and watch the shiver trace over your body.}I have done many things...have had many things done to me in turn.With the proper level of trust, my limits are flexible.But I never work without a safe word.I never work under the influence of alcohol.I never work with new players to the game.I never work in an uncontrolled environment.It has been...quite awhile since I've played the game with any seriousness; I've not yet found the proper partner for the levels of intensity I once played.I know you're interested...perhaps, once we get back home, we might explore that interest.Something simple, something easy, yes?

Randy:To start with, simple and easy is best. {You tickle the area right behind my knee and I wiggle, smiling.} Ass. Remember what they say about paybacks, darlin'. {I consider what you said, thinking through it.} I'm new...but not new, if that makes sense. I don't have a lot of experience with heavy or intense sensation, but I know where I was, when I played before...it wasn't enough. I wanted more...wanted to work to push my limits. {I close my eyes for a minute, seeing Bran's face as it was when we first started to play, then later, when his eyes would nearly gleam with that strange light. I refrain, barely, from shaking myself to clear the memory, then look at you.} It didn't...didn't work out with my Dom, for a lot of reasons...but I thought you should know, if we do play, I want more than domination and submission. I want to push myself. I know what I want...I'm not afraid to try for it.

Michael:I didn't think you were entirely new to the game...your responses were too good.{I let my fingers dance down your inner thigh, smiling as you shiver.I wonder if you've noticed you're getting hard from talking about this.I trail my fingertips along your filling cock.}You'd make a lovely partner---I have so many things I could teach you.I can lead you into experiences you've only dreamt of.Things dark and sweet.Things most people would never even consider.{Ah, yes, you like that, like the thoughts and visuals that are filling your head now.I smile wolfishly at you, and bend to nip at your inner knee.}That is for later, though, when you trust me.When I trust you.Wholly, fully, completely.But until then, we can start out with something a bit less...intense.Simple games, yes?

Randy:{I nod, watching your finger still tracing over me, thoughts whirling inside my head, fast enough to make me dizzy. I know, from your teasing touches, that it hasn't escaped you that this subject is arousing to me.} It's funny, really, that I happened into bdsm almost by accident, and it turned out to be something I consider very important to me. My...needs...{I suddenly find the ocean and the horizon fascinating, unable to hold your eyes while we talk, while I try and explain some of what it means, some of what I need, to you.} I used to think I just wanted to be dominated...and for a long time, I wondered what was wrong with me. Was it something messed up in my childhood? Not enough discipline, or something? And then...then I realized, to a certain extent, I'd *always* had those needs...that was the first thing about being with Angel, that totally turned me on. When he covered me, and held me down...he was big, and heavy, and I loved the feeling of knowing he was...kinda in control, if that makes sense. Even  
though we didn't do anything remotely like D/s, or anything else. But...that wasn't enough...I wanted more. Always wanted, didn't always get. I haven't always been successful in communicating my needs. {I look up to see your eyes, dark and understanding, watching me, and I give you a wry grin.} I decided from the get-go that I was going to be as upfront as I could be with you, that I wanted you to know what I want. What I need.

Michael:You must always be forthright with me, Caro.I can read you to a certain degree, but not entirely.I will ask you, when the time comes, what you want, what you need, and you will answer me.We'll start out slowly, building trust as we go along.I'll take care of you...I'll not betray what you offer me.{I press a kiss this time to your inner thigh.Your cock curves up over your belly, full now, heavy; I wonder what thoughts you see in your inner eye.Delicious thoughts of restraints and sweet torment?Good.Anticipation is a marvelous spice.I shan't do anything here and now; that is for later, when we're home, and in familiar surroundings.But I can fully imagine what pleasures you'll offer me, and those I offer in return.I feel a smile tug at my mouth.A little pinch of your inner thigh, and I slip away, to arc into the water, leaving you hard and red and wet.My own erection fades somewhat at the shock of the water, and then I'm swimming out to the ship, stopping halfway to tread water and watch you.}

Randy:{Here, then gone in a flash, leaving me aching and feeling vulnerable, but also feeling...relieved. What I want and need from you are many things, and this is just one facet of that. But God, it would be nice to have those needs met from a lover, a partner. I could find a Dom, if I went looking...but the other is just as important, and I'd like the two together. I'd like...you. I raise my eyes to watch you, treading water, watching me, and I stand up and fist myself once, hollering across the distance,} C'mon back here and fight like a man.

Michael:{I can't help the laugh that bursts from me.Standing there naked and defiant-looking, holding your cock in you hand.I'm glad no one else is about.I swim slowly, lazily back to the boulders, and when I can touch the sandy bottom, I stand and look up at you.}I always win fights, Caro.Always.{I lick the salty water from my lips.My voice drops a bit.}Let me see you touch yourself.Let me see you come.Right there.Right now.

Randy:{I have the crazy thought that if we mesh, if we stick together, and follow through with what we've been discussing, it won't be an on-again-off-again thing. I don't know if it would be twenty-four-seven, but it would be...fluid. And I think...that's what I've been searching for. Bran wanted all the time. But he didn't want to dominate me, he wanted to own me. He wanted to own my soul, and never let me breathe. I can feel a shiver work over me, in spite of the heat from the sun, in spite of the heat in your eyes, and the promise there. I can't let that happen again. I can't be something I'm not. But I want you...I want what you're offering, even in something as easy, as light-hearted as telling me to jack off and come for you. Lovers do that; Doms and subs do that, too. Everyone does that. 'Play with yourself. Come for me.' The only thing that varies is how it's said. I watch you, you're not completely hard, but I can see arousal glinting in your eyes; arousal, affection, intention. I slip my hand over my cock, watching your eyes, your face, as you watch me. One hand up to pinch my nipples, the other stroking harder, faster, imagining the things you'll do to me; the things we'll do *together*. So many think bdsm is just about the Dom beating the sub senseless...but it's a shared thing. We both get pleasure from it, if for different reasons. I stroke faster, gasping lightly. Blue ocean, grey eyes, hot, yellow sun that echoes the heat inside me. Getting so close, now....} Michael--!

Michael:{Beautiful, to watch you come.Your seed arcs out in a large initial spurt, followed by two smaller ones.Your back bows, and ecstasy tightens your face.Incredible.I lick my lips again, in hunger this time; I can feel my cock pulse back to life.I wait until you shudder through your orgasm, gasping, and then smile.}Come to me.

Randy:{No second invitations needed; I slide down off the rock. I would dive, but it's always chancy, when the water is so shallow. I do not want to end up my life a quadriplegic. A couple of easy strokes gets me to you quickly, and I slide myself up against you, water streaming over both of us. You're hard, your cock hot against my belly, and I shiver before leaning to kiss you, my arms encircling your waist.} We could do this for forever, I think.

Michael:Yes....{I murmur against your mouth before diving in, hungry and ferocious.You respond instantly, grappling to get a better grip, to hold me to you more tightly.My hips rub against yours, my cock digging into your smooth belly...so good.Before I realize it, we thump against the smooth boulders, and I'm pressing tightly against you.My hands slide around and grasp your ass, pulling you closer, pulling your legs upward.}Wrap your legs about me.Let me fuck you like this....

Randy:Oh, yeah...{The rock is warm against my back; the slight heat increases what's pounding through me. How in the hell does it happen like this, every single time? If I were a match, and you were gasoline, it would be the same effect. I arch my head back, exposing my neck for you, and groan when you lean in and bite me. Not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to leave a pinch there, to make my cock bob upward with renewed interest.} Fuck me, Michael. Want you to fuck me....

Michael:{My fingers delve into your cleft, seeking your opening I can feel against the head of my cock.Your entire body jerks against mine as my fingers probe into you, and then you relax, allowing me to open you.So hot inside you, so tight; I want to be within you.I'm aware of your throaty moans, of your needy whispers, begging me to do it, and do it now.I'm very aware of your belly flush against mine, of the tightness of your legs about my waist.You're bigger than I am, and only the water bearing most of your weight allows me to take you like this.Pulling your cheeks apart, I push against the strong guardian muscle, and we both moan when I begin moving into you, past the initial pressure.Then it's one long, glorious slide into your heat and tightness, your body sheathing me, as if you were made specifically for me.I press against you, pinning you against the hard rock, impaling you upon myself} Perfect...mine...made for me.....

Randy:Yes...god, yes... {I want to howl as you slide in, it feels so good. I dig my fingers into your shoulders, groaning when you thrust hard, surging into me. You're hot and so hard inside me, and my body is burning around where you've stretched me for penetration, but god it feels good. My own cock is pressed tight between our bellies, rubbing slickly against sweaty skin.} Feels so good... {I bite you gently, then suck on your neck, my tongue stroking where your pulse is pounding.} Fuck me... fuck me...wanna feel you come inside me...need to feel it, darlin'....

Michael:{It occurs to me that as tightly as we're gripping one another, we'll look mauled, but I don't care.The sounds you make, the raw, undiluted hunger in your eyes, the ferocity with which you respond---it unleashes the primal.I want to mark you, need to come in you, need to claim you.Civilized fades away, and roughly, harshly, I press you against the rocks, pounding hard into you, seeking release.You're meant for me, mine.I need you---I'll have you.I'll make you forget everyone else you've ever been with---I'll wipe them from your mind, from your body, and you'll be mine.The tight clench of your body, the way your knees grip my ribs, is almost overwhelming, and I lose myself in the feel of you all around me.}

Randy:{I want to scream and beg you to fuck me harder, but I don't know how it could be any harder, any rougher, doing it where and how we are. Already my head is banging against the rock; I surge forward, taking your mouth with mine, biting your lips before pressing hard against them, seeking entry. I can feel you throb inside me, can feel the hard grip of your hands as you hold me. I'm going to be so sore later, and bruised, and I can't wait. I want this. I want you. Whether or not I'm ready to admit it out loud isn't the point. My heart and body know what I want, what I need--and it's you. I can hear you claiming me, the words ringing in my ears, your voice hoarse with arousal, with need so strong it's beyond physical. My growl of submission works its way up from my chest and I tear my mouth away from yours, bowing my head back to expose my throat, my voice, my words coming out as a snarl.} Yours, Michael--take me.

Michael:{Perfect.I can feel it beginning, the hot, sweet, tingling rush of orgasm, centering deep in my pelvis, surging upward, outward.And then it's there, rushing and boiling out of me, filling you as I grip you even tighter.}Mine....

Randy:{I can feel you shuddering against me, feel the contractions of your cock deep inside me as you let it all go. My cock throbs angrily, needing to come again, needing more friction to make it happen. I let go of you with one hand, reaching between us to grab myself. A little too hard, and I yelp, shivering when you bite me, laughing against my neck. I jerk myself hard, fast, feeling the shudders begin that signal my orgasm coming. I hit my head on the rock again when I fling it back, feeling the incredible heat of it rushing through me.}

Michael:{I hold us both tightly until the shaking slows, and finally stops, until I feel myself soften and slip from you.I feel utterly wrung out, as if all my energy has been used up.Given the fierceness of our coupling, I'm not surprised.I bury my face in your throat until I've gotten a grip on myself, and then slowly, reluctantly, release your legs from about my waist, letting them slide down until we're both standing, leaning against one another, against the rocks.}That was...{I have to stop and clear my throat; it feels dry and raw.}...incredible....

Randy:{I lean back against the rock, grateful for its presence. I'm not completely certain my legs would support my full weight, just yet.} That's...that's one way of putting it, darlin'. {I raise a hand and gingerly touch the back of my head, wincing. It's already tender; by tomorrow, it's going to hurt. If it takes that long. I laugh awkwardly, a little embarrassed by how carried away I got.}

Michael:I'm not certain about you, Caro, but I think I need a bit of something to eat, to drink, and a lie down for a while.{I press a kiss to your mouth; it's swollen, as I know my own is.We're both going to be sore, but you, especially.I give you a brief hug, hard and tight, before releasing you.As tired as my body is, my spirit feels...scoured.The passion I'd felt, the primal need to own, to claim, had surprised me, and I feel the need to step back, to regroup a little.To examine what I felt, thought, did.}

Randy:Lying down, and some ibuprofen would be good. I dunno about eating...not really hungry. {I feel...odd. Not sick, exactly, but odd. Like I need to just take a time-out, and think. My head aches now, to be honest, which might account for some of it. That'd be great, if I concussed myself while fucking. Quentin would have my ass for dinner. And breakfast, and lunch, and--shit. Definitely queasy now. Good thing the boat isn't far away.} Heads up, man. I gotta get inside.

Michael:{It takes only a moment to get back to the ship, another to get aboard, another to hustle you into the shower.When you come out, I have juice and medication for you.You look faintly greenish, and keep gingerly touching the back of your head.I think you've struck it hard, and practically have to muscle you into the light until I can examine your pupils, with you protesting all the time.Both equal, and reactive.Good.}Hell--just from the way you're whining, I can tell you're fine...go have a lie down, and when you get up, I'll fix something for you to eat....

Randy:Oh, what a bedside manner *you* have, Dr. Pierson. {I resist, but only just, the urge to stick my tongue out at you. You swat my ass, but are obviously taking the high road; no snarkiness from you for the moment. I swallow down the pills and a drink of the juice, but my head really does ache, and it's not much of a fight to close the shades in the cabin and lie down on the bed. The sheets are still tumbled from sleeping earlier, and they feel good when I settle on them. You stand at the door, watching me, eyes cool and shadowed in the half-light. I pat the pillow beside me.} Lie with me? Just to cuddle?

Michael:Yes, I shall.{I go and quickly rinse the salt water from me, drying myself briskly before slipping into bed with you.It feels good to stretch out on the cool sheets, to lie beside you, to let my fingers stroke the smooth skin of your flat belly even as I spoon in beside you, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck.}Sleep, Caro, and I'll watch over you.

Randy:{The thing I like best about sleeping in a boat is the gentle rocking motion, when the water moves it about. In a storm it can be a bitch, and I've ridden out my fair share of storms. But in calm seas, it's like I would imagine being rocked gently in a cradle might be - calm, slow, soothing. There's something equally comforting about your presence behind me, your hand gentle on my stomach...just touching me. I yawn once, then close my eyes, letting the motion carry me until I fall asleep, the soft whisper of your breath against the back of my neck.}

Michael:{After a couple of hours, I slip out and prepare a simple meal of sandwiches and soup, and fruit, and wake you up.You're a little cross, but I can't blame you much.Bruises have bloomed on your hips and waist and thighs, and I feel a flush of primitive pleasure.Marks I've put there in my passion.I've always been careful not to mark the women I've been with, but with you, bigger, stronger than I...it pleases me to see them.  
_  
_After we've eaten, we go back to the upper decks to watch the sun sinking toward the horizon.After the heat of the day, the breeze is cool, and I'm glad I brought up a light jacket.I feel peaceful, sitting beside you, something I've not felt in ages.You look as pleased as I feel.}I'm glad I came, Caro.It will be difficult to leave tomorrow.

Randy:Yeah, it will. {Both of us are quieter now than we've been for the rest of the trip. Contemplative. Lots of things happened today - just today. Funny how such a large amount of emotion could be poured into one short span of hours. My headache is gone, but the knot on the back of my head is tender, as are the bites and bruises on my chest and neck, and my ass. Painful, but not. I watch the setting sun merge with the ocean, listening like always for the hiss my daddy told me you could hear. Sometimes I imagine I can. I sneak a look at you from under my lashes, wondering what you're thinking. I know earlier took a lot out of both of us, emotionally as well as physically. I can't believe I...said what I did. I can't be any man's possession; the marks Bran left on me are too strong to entertain it. But I must be, somewhere, to say that like I did, in the height of passion. Wanting something that scares me to death? Could I be *yours*...and still retain me? I wonder. I couldn't, with Bran. But you're not him. I sigh and reach out, touch your hand briefly before putting my hands in my pockets.} Now, what? We're a little beyond the "let's have dinner and go make out" stage...though that certainly holds appeal. You said...you know what you want. What do you want, Michael?

Michael:Yes, I rather think we roared past that stage.{I rub the back of my neck, a small gesture of slight embarrassment.I shan't be, though---it's all felt too right, regardless of the breakneck speed of it all.But what do I want, really?}I'm almost forty, Caro.I've sown enough wild oats for ten men.I'm ready, I think...to settle a bit.To be exclusive.I'd like for you to be that one.I'm...tired of being alone, or tired of seeing people who mean nothing to me, which is basically the same thing.

Randy:{Part of me was hoping you'd say this; the other part of me has frozen with terror. I want to shout that I don't know you well enough to even consider exclusive, that I don't know if I can be trusted to give enough of myself to make a relationship. But...haven't I been doing that? Wasn't that what I spent nearly a month moping over the loss of? We never even had as much as we have right now, that first weekend...and I missed you before I walked out your door. Do I trust you? Yes. There's something in your eyes when you look at me, or when you don't think I'm looking... I raise my eyes to meet yours.} I don't...have a lot of practice with this, darlin'. My last relationship ended...badly. But...I think...you're right. It feels...it feels right between us. It has since I talked you into hooky. {You smile at me at that, and I grin back, reaching out to take your hand, lacing my fingers with yours.} You mean a lot to me, darlin'.

Michael:I don't have the best of records myself, Caro.But I think we can find our own path through this.{I give your hand a squeeze.}I'm not certain how we'll manage seeing one another, given our schedules, but I know I want to see you as much as possible.{I stop and think a moment.}I want you to spend as many nights with me as you are able.

Randy:{A deep breath clears most of the panic out again, along with the mental reminder that you are NOT Bran. This is not that sort of situation. Two new lovers, wanting to see as much of each other as possible. Not one man wanting to own another. I nod slowly, considering how to voice it.} As many nights as you want me, darlin'. Probably not Mondays or Wednesdays, since GGCC is closer to my apartment than yours...but otherwise...if you want me there...I want to be there.

Michael:That pleases me.{I lean companionably into your strong body.}I'll get a keycard for you, a parking space, and clear you through security.And I can promise that we'll not be disturbed as we once were.Miles has his own small flat down the hallway---he doesn't live in mine.

Randy:What about--your assistant? I can't...do that again, Michael. And won't people ask questions? I don't...you can't be public about this, darlin'. You can't.

Michael:Erich will *not* be a problem.{I know my voice grows darker as I remember the tremendous row we'd had behind the closed door of my office.I'd been very glad it was soundproofed.I know others would not allow Erich such freedom of expression, but I did because I knew he would never be one of those who would toady to me; I knew he always meant what he said, and generally, I valued his opinion.}I am not that high-profile; I'm quiet and somewhat reclusive---a boring person for the media.I've never had much difficulty with them.I've managed to stay scandal-free, and so they tend to leave me be.My business is my own.I'm not ashamed of what I am.I can be discreet, and I know you can, also.

Randy:I've never hidden who I am, nor what my orientation is...but I've never flaunted them, either. Discreet is the way to go, in this day and age. {I pause, having the feeling of being whirled along faster than I can keep up with, and conversely, of not moving fast enough.} I have a spare key at home; I'll give it to you the next time I'm over.That way...{I shrug. Most likely we'll stay at your place most of the time, which is fine by me.} We can head back tomorrow, give us extra time to get the boat settled, then to get ourselves settled. {It's dark out here now, but I haven't been this comfortable in...ages.Snuggled close to you, our fingers twined, enjoying the cool night breeze, the heavy scent of salt and brine, the comforting creaks and flaps of canvass.}

Michael:That sounds like a good plan, Caro.{We stay out on the deck until its fully dark.Whatever emotions the day has brought seem distant, somehow, and I feel comfortable, secure, somehow.Funny---I wasn't even aware of feeling insecure.Even though it's early, we turn in, and you pop some movie into the vcr.Something about a submarine; very tense and exciting.I know your head aches, and I hope you go have it checked out when we get back home.We lie together, just touching once in awhile, as if to confirm the other is there.Very domestic, I think wryly, but satisfying nonetheless.When the movie is finished, I make you roll over and give you a massage to work out tension and kinks, and I'm actually a good boy, keeping it nonsexual.When I'm finished, I kiss the nape of your neck, then curl into your side to sleep.}

Randy:{There's something very comforting, very right about this, about being so...low-key with you. The massage was great, though I'm still sore and achy, and probably will be for a few days yet. I drift off and on, not sleeping, but not really awake. This has been an exhausting weekend on many levels, and while I'm not looking forward to going back at all, I'm also anticipating returning to something like a 'normal' schedule. I do wonder how well this is going to work out between us; we're both stubborn, majorly alpha-male types. Workaholics. But you're right. It's time to find someone to settle down with...and I've had a feeling since I laid eyes on you. As long as I don't scare myself into backing away prematurely...I think I have what it takes to make it with you. I hope.

You're snuggled up against me, and after a while I relax back against you, feeling tired and energized all at once. We'll take the boat back tomorrow; with good winds we can be back to San Fran by late afternoon, which will give us the evening and the next day to settle ourselves. A chance to kind of feel our way through the first moments of "exclusiveness". I give a little shiver - fear? delight? - and you snuggle closer, your lips brushing my neck. Simple, unconscious display of affection. It makes me smile, relieving some of the tension. I'm glad we went sailing...even though I'm not sure I was so glad this morning. It gave us an opportunity to work through some issues we needed to address, without wondering who might be listening or watching.

You make a soft snorting noise in your sleep, suspiciously like a snore, and I grin in the darkness. Yeah, I'm glad we did this. Glad we had this. And after tomorrow, when we head back to San Fran, I'm looking forward to...the rest.}

~finis~

 


End file.
